


Four Weddings and a Funeral

by ConstructiveRomance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26213020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstructiveRomance/pseuds/ConstructiveRomance
Summary: Another day, another invite. It seems everyone but the Golden Trio is getting hitched, and although they resolve to try dating more, they're overjoyed for their friends and throw themselves into celebrations. The war is over and it's time for life. Unfortunately, life and death are often entwined in a balancing act.
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Ron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 38





	1. One Too Many Invites

"Oh, god, _no,"_ Hermione frowns as she hears Harry's whining from the kitchen and quickly makes her way there. Their apartment is modest; a bright, three bedroom haven in London. It doesn't take long for her to reach her destination and she arrives just in time to see Harry flick his hand and send a piece of parchment to stick on their fridge. _Ah,_ Hermione realises as she notes the decorative, golden flowers bordering the paper.

If he is startled to see her in the doorway, he doesn't show it. Harry meets her eyes and says flatly, "Another wedding, Hermione. _Another wedding."_

Hermione opens her mouth to respond, trying to mask her amusement at his despair, but Harry rambles on, "Three weddings in a year is a nice amount, I said. It will be nice to see everyone again, I said. What a bloody rubbish thing to say." Harry takes a seat at their small, round kitchen table and sighs, "Seven. Everyone knows that's a cursed number, Hermione, it's basically a rule of magic."

She makes a noise to indicate she has heard him, but offers no words. Hermione begins to make tea for the both of them, hoping she can somehow persuade her friend that this isn't the end of the world. She knows putting in an appearance at Theodore Nott's wedding last weekend had taken the wind out of his sails, but there's no need to apply that same hesitance to their Gryffindor classmates' weddings.

Hermione slides the cup over to him and sits opposite, observing. Harry has changed a good deal in the eight years since the war, but the slumped shoulders, furrowed eyebrows and downturned creases of his mouth remind her so strongly of his seventeen year old self that she almost feels nostalgic. She thinks about voicing this, but he's off again, earning an immediate eye roll from Hermione, "What kind of illness lasts about a year, is highly contagious and not deadly? C'mon, I _know_ you have a book on this stuff."

Hermione finally allows a snort of amusement but continues to stir her tea, watching as a little whirlpool forms around her spoon. Harry must be fresh from a shower, because when he moves, there's a pleasant waft of the seabreeze shower gel he uses and she inhales greedily before he can notice.

A loud sigh draws from his lips, "Fine, go on. 'Harry, you are being so ridiculous and immature right now. What age are you?'" His impression of her is high-pitched, whiny and highly unflattering.

Hermione laughs, "That impression certainly does not help with the maturity aspect."

He flashes her a grin, eyes bright, and she almost falters, "Don't pretend you feel any different about all this."

Her lips press together, unwilling to let a lie spill forth, until she eventually lets out a sigh of her own, "Whose is it this time?" Hermione nods her head toward the new invitation on the fridge.

Harry's face reddens, which perks her curiosity, and he scratches the back of his neck, "Well, it's.. It's.."

Unable to wait for her friend to finish bumbling, Hermione quickly summons the invitation with her wand and reads it. Her eyes scan the page for the two names and she lets out a squeal of joy before immediately smacking her friend with the offending invitation, "You tosser! It's _Neville,_ how can you not be delighted?"

Rubbing his arm as if the paper had hurt in any capacity, Harry mumbles, "Don't like weddings."

"You're being a baby, do you know that?" She snaps, finished with entertaining his strop. "This wedding at least you will thoroughly enjoy, we all will, because we are delighted our friend is happy." She looks at Harry, eyebrows raised, waiting, and then sighs, "Harry, come on,"

" _Fine_ ," He finally says, resignation written on his face, "You are right. I'm just - I just hate being the guest of honour, you know. Sometimes I feel like they must write 'Harry Potter will be attending' on the invitations to everyone else."

Hermione softens, watching as her best friend sinks into his guilt. He's hunched over his tea now, tilting the cup from side to side, eyes moving with it. Absently, her eyes drift to the fading, white, jagged scar on his forehead and there's a rush of dismay that runs through her. It's unfair, after years of fighting Voldemort, fighting dark wizards and publicity and scandal, that he can't simply go to his friends wedding and enjoy.

Their decision to go to Theodore's wedding was one purely of courtesy, given he's one of their colleagues at the Ministry. It didn't matter that they had only spent two hours at the event, as every moment was spent greeting, listening to praise and criticisms, pretending to be naive to blatant ploys of manipulation and for Hermione's part, a lot of pretending they weren't dishing veiled insults to her blood status.

At twenty-six, Hermione's well aware that this is the boom of weddings that everyone seems to experience. They're still too young, she thinks, but with the compulsive need to make everything ok after the war, she can understand it. There is peace in partnership, stability and love.

Her eyes drift to Harry, "I'm sorry, Harry. I know these things aren't always easy but we'll make it fun, ok? The three of us have always known how to have fun."

He raises a brow, mischief creeping into his face, "Hermione Granger fun? Breaking rules, almost getting expelled kind of fun?"

"Getting expelled from a wedding - now that would surely make the papers. More to the point, I'm not getting involved in yours and Ron's schemes anymore.. Mental ideas."

He nudges her elbow with his hand, almost causing her to slip right off the table, "Yeah, you were _never_ involved in the planning of any fun stuff." The sarcasm is overflowing, drawing a small smile from her, "Anyway, I appreciate that. You're right, I'm happy for Neville -"

"I'm home," A voice sings from the living room. Harry and Hermione exchange a grin before he shouts out 'in here'.

The towering figure of Ron Weasley struts into the kitchen, throwing his coat unceremoniously onto the counter before jumping onto it. His hair is damp, the red appearing more bloody than usual, and his clothes have dark patches all over. Hermione is confused by the beaming, wide smile that contradicts everything about his appearance, and his eyes are wide and friendly, observing them with a bright countenance, "What's up?"

"Raining out?" Harry asks dryly.

"What? Oh - this, yes," The tips of his ears begin to turn a shade of pink, "I was in Muggle London for the afternoon and forgot an umbrella, couldn't do a charm."

He leans back and opens the kitchen window, bending halfway out before trying to light a cigarette. Frowning, Hermione turns to Harry and finds him already looking at her. They both point to each other in askance, a silent question of 'did you give him direction or help on that?'

She shakes her head, and turns to Ron, bewildered, "You - you were in muggle London without Harry or I?"

Her disbelief does nothing to Ron's mood, "Yep, it's not _that_ hard, you know. I was an Auror for a couple of years, I know how to blend in."

"Forgive me, Ron, how could I possibly doubt that? It's not like you ever strolled around a shopping centre twirling your wand."

"That was _ages_ ago!" Ron shoots back in defiance, as if he cannot believe Harry would mention such an incidence. He turns back to the window and takes an inhale of the cigarette before blowing out slowly.

Hermione has held her tongue for a good minute now, and can no longer restrain herself, "Good grief, Ronald, you know those things will _kill_ you?"

He shrugs a shoulder, "Need something to keep the excitement alive now I don't have Death Eaters trying to kill me."

Exasperated, Hermione turns to Harry who only shrugs, amused by the exchange. It's a common occurrence, with the three of them living together, that Harry opts to remain uninvolved in any discussion between Ron and Hermione that may turn heated. It had taken a long time for them to adjust to the dynamic of living together in normal life. After all, Harry and Ron already had a routine by the time Hermione moved in a year later when she finished her NEWTs.

Back then, there had been more nights spent tossing and turning than partying. More days spent shuffling, blank-eyed, from room to room than storming through legislation in the Ministry. Recovery from the war had been frustrating, slow, Hermione thought she would never be herself again.

It's a lesson she carries close to her heart now: everything passes, everything is temporary. Both good and bad.

Hermione keeps this in mind in moments like now, where she has her two best friends sitting with her in the kitchen of their apartment, close and safe and _warm._ She treasures the time they have now together, knowing eventually both of them will meet the love of their lives and begin some whirlwind romance that replaces her. Maybe she will get the romance, too, who knows.

"Do you have a date with Luna tonight then? You're awfully cheerful,"

Ron winces, "Um, no. Luna and I ended again last night. She is _barmy_ sometimes."

Hermione feels Harry bristle beside her, but she speaks first, "I wish you wouldn't call her that, Ron, it's not fair."

"You weren't there," He responds, tipping the last of his ash into the tray on the sill and closing the window, "She asked me if I believed in divine fates, and then got mad at me when I said it was a load of bollocks."

"That's shocking, that is."

"Piss off, Harry, it's hard being with someone so different."

Hermione glances at her watch, knowing she needs to get back to work, "Maybe stop being with people so different then," The slight is blatant, but Ron doesn't take the bait. "In better news, Neville and Hannah are getting married - their invite is on the fridge."

Ron claps enthusiastically, "Finally! I thought we were going to have to have an intervention. He's been carrying around that bloody ring for how long now?"

"Must be two years," Harry muses aloud, nodding.

Ron pauses, settles onto the counter again, "To be honest, I'm a bit fed up of all the weddings though." Harry and Hermione make hearty noises of agreement, and Ron grins, "What do you think is wrong with the three of us? We're all just miserable bastards?"

Hermione rebukes this instantly, "I think I'd prefer _not_ to be included in that group, thanks very much."

"You can't, it's 'The Golden _Trio_ \- a Shower of Bastards,"

She knows now Ron is trying to get a rise out of her, and there's some small part of her that wishes she could resist it. Before she can react, Harry laughs, "They'd certainly never say that to our face. If one more person greets me as 'Savior', I think I'll become the next Voldemort."

Hermione rises to place her cup in the sink and grabs Harry's too, "It's certainly a better reason than Voldemort had." She turns hastily, noting the symmetry in how their positions now formed a perfect triangle, "We could get dates if we wanted. _I_ could anyway," She adds with confidence that is almost entirely faked.

"We all could, but like I said, shower of miserable bastards," Ron replies, but there's no hint of malice or sadness in his tone. He leans forward, and Hermione is instantly worried about the gleam in his eye, "Maybe we should make an effort to bring dates. We've given up trying a bit lately."

Harry responds with a raised brow, "You can't get with the bridesmaids if you bring a date, you know,"

Ron clutches his chest, appearing scandalised, "Where is the integrity, Potter? We only bring someone we genuinely like."

With severe reluctance, Hermione nods, "Ron does have a point. I haven't brought a date to anything since Terry."

Ron and Harry share an expression of displeasure upon hearing his name, but it's Harry who says, "No one would blame you if he put you off dating for a while."

"Terry was nice!"

" _Yeah,"_ Ron said, stretching out the syllables, "Nice people always call your friends hobbies 'low brow', everyone knows that,"

"You embarrassed him," Hermione snaps, "Don't you dare pretend for one second, Ronald Weasley, that you didn't hit that bludger toward him on purpose. He told you he couldn't play Quidditch."

"That's a shocking accusation to make without any proof -"

"Stop," Harry interrupts, his voice soft but impatient. He swings a look at Ron first, "Your innocence there is really questionable, Ron. And Hermione, he was a pretentious wanker, but yeah, he was nice enough to you so he's not a _proper_ git I suppose."

They're both a bit ruffled by his words, making similar sounds of disagreement, but neither continue their argument. Terry Boot had dated Hermione for seven months, and while he irritated Harry and Ron to no end, he had been good to Hermione. Harry can't hate the bloke for that reason alone, but Ron seems to have no such problem.

He used to think this attitude is jealousy on Ron's part, but now sees his hatred of Terry as something closer to jealousy of money. Terry is smart, well-connected and wealthy, he speaks with a rather posh accent and sometimes purposely (or so he and Ron think) uses words people won't understand easily.

Ron has matured greatly in terms of the chip on his shoulder, but when someone so blatantly flashes their perceived superiority, old habits die hard. At the time, it helped that Ginny hated him, too, called him a 'pompous prat'.

"Things are really finished with Luna, this time," Ron takes to wringing his sopping jacket out over the sink, and Hermione moves to sit back down at the table.

"I'm sorry, Ron. You both tried hard to make it work."

He shrugs, "That's the way it is sometimes. Anyway, got to find me a new date!" He accio's the invitation over and continues, "Neville's wedding is only a few months away, better get cracking!"

"What about Percy's wedding?" Hermione nods her head towards his brothers invitation, sitting on the fridge, half obscured by other invites.

"We already decided to go as friends to that, me and Luna. Try to get back to friends."

Harry stands and stretches, "Great, we'll all make sure it's a brilliant night,"

"Yes. That's exactly what I expect," Ron responds, deadpan, " _Percy's_ wedding to be any fun whatsoever." They all laugh in response to this, because after all, Ron has a very sound point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first proper foray into a multi chapter HHR. I'm very nervous! It will probably be about six chapters. I hope to have a wedding (and one funeral) per chapter but if it's too long may have to split them. I've most of it written except the funeral as, well, I'm dreading it haha. So fair warning - there is a character death.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please leave a review if you feel up to it. I've posted more on ff so I'll update with two chapters today and one tomorrow to bring the AO3 version up to same point.
> 
> Lastly, an unnecessary ritual, I do not own HP obviously or 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' premise that this is based on, which is a movie. I watched the movie once about ten years ago, didn't love it, and so very little of this will be like the movie other than the wedding/funeral aspect.
> 
> CR.


	2. Percy & Audrey

Harry taps his foot in an incessant, quick rhythm as he waits for his friends to come bounding into the living room. His instinct when impatient and nervous is to run his hand through his hair, but after trying to tame it this morning, Harry doesn't dare mess up the progress he made. He glances at his watch again and eyes the portkey with a mild amount of trepidation. He really doesn't like portkey travel, but Percy had insisted on it.

Harry said yesterday that they should stay at the Burrow, but, no, his friends refuse to listen to him and now they're going to be late to the wedding of a person more uptight than Hermione.

Speak of the devil: "Harry, you're ready! Great, where's Ron?" She is stumbling over herself, tying the straps of her shoes while trying to walk. Harry blinks, caught for a moment as he so often is when Hermione dresses for these events. This time, she's wearing a navy, high neck dress that falls to the floor. Her hair is caught up, and when she turns to grab her bag, Harry sees that the dress is backless. He averts his gaze quickly, growing uncomfortable with the heat rising in his body.

Damn Percy and his black tie regulations.

"Where's Ron?" She repeats, blowing a hair from her face.

"Getting ready," Harry offers helpfully, before swallowing the sandpaper in his throat, "You look great."

Hermione flashes him a smile, "Thanks, so do you. It's nice to get fancy sometimes, isn't it? One thing to thank Percy for."

"I feel like it will be the only thing to thank Percy for," Harry remarks, setting his expectations for the day to _very low._ His impatience hits its peak now and he roars, "Ron! Come on!"

He hears some loud bangs and clatters before Ron is finally running from his room, donning a black tuxedo and, to Harry's amusement, a great deal of gel in his hair. That had to be Hermione's doing.

Earlier frustrations gone, Harry has time to remark, "Lorcan D'Eath called, he loves your hairstyle,"

"Piss off," Ron says and shoves him towards the portkey, "You're just jealous your hair will only ever look like Hagrids."

Before Harry can retort, the three of them are being squeezed and compressed. Thrown abruptly down onto the marble floor, Harry credits his graceful land to his continued interest in playing Quidditch. He never went professional, but at least once a week he makes an effort to retain his seeker skills. Hermione grasps onto his forearm as she stumbles forward, the two of them catching her on time from an ungainly fall.

Ron pops up, fresh and beaming, "Lovely." Harry takes a moment to let Ron's words materialise around them as he scans the room. Percy and Audrey's wedding is in a hotel not far from Hogwarts, in a giant ballroom ordinarily used for Ministry events. He's impressed with how they've transformed the room. Gleaming, white marble tiles pave the room, illuminating the gold pillars and accents of the long, square tables. If Harry replaces a few colours and backgrounds, it's almost like Hogwarts, with families occupying the tables instead of houses. Of course, the tables are empty now, and he frantically scans for where the ceremony is.

Hermione tugs both their arms, "Come on, it must be through here," Her heels click as they move, echoing through the empty ballroom and reminding them of their lateness. She stops abruptly and leans into Ron, sniffing dramatically before she resumes walking. Hermione hisses, "Ronald Weasley, you better not tell me that we are late to your brothers wedding because you had to indulge that filthy, smelly habit of yours,"

"Won't be telling you anything, Hermione," Ron retorts, and Harry wonders if it's courage or stupidity. They arrive at the double doors.

Mercifully, the ceremony hasn't begun, and the three of them skulk to the top of the room to take their seats with the Weasley family. The whole room seems to be wooden, from the benches he's already getting sore sitting on, to the brown roof and hardwood floors. At the top of the room, there's a slight altar and flowers scattered everywhere, as if thrown there haphazardly in a rush. It's out of place in a room so pristine.

Ron slides in beside George while Hermione and Harry take a seat behind, next to the Delacours. He gives a brief smile to Gabrielle in hello, and leans back so Hermione can do the same.

"Cutting it a bit close, eh?" Harry feels two hands on his and Hermione's shoulders from the row behind them, calling their attention.

"Have you seen Ron's hair?" Hermione asks, amused, "That art takes time."

Neville snorts in response, "I'll have to see it up close later."

Music begins to play and silence falls over the group. No one would dare cause a thread to be out of place for Percy Weasley's wedding. Despite the reconciliation with his family after the war, and his promise to make an effort, he never lost his haughty expression. As a senior auror, Harry occasionally crosses paths with Percy at the Ministry, but for the most part their interaction happens at the weekly Burrow dinners.

Hermione, on the other hand, spends a great deal of time working with him at the Ministry. New legislation and legal proceedings often involve the Minister and his second in command. Shocking everyone, Percy was promoted two years ago to Kinglsey's Deputy Prime Minister. That said, when elections are held next year, Harry is confident Percy will lose. He's not as sorry about that as he perhaps should be.

He feels Hermione squeeze his hand and he leans in to hear her whisper, "Is Ginny with _Dean Thomas_ again?"

The disbelief in her tone is evident, and he follows her line of vision to the stunning redhead that is Ginny Weasley. He expects some kind of heart palpitation, sweaty palms, rush of heat reaction but instead Harry feels only bemused. It's an objective fact that she looks great, but Harry now finds it hard to evoke the emotions he once felt with the redhead. It's been six years since they dated, and most of their time together was spent long distance.

Why is she here with Dean Thomas, though? They ended badly and she always spoke rather negatively of him following the split. People change, Harry supposes. He leans back to Hermione, "Good for her anyway."

He feels her gaze on him, pointed, until she finally looks back towards the ceremony. Harry is barely paying attention to anything the officiant is saying. Hermione is still holding his hand, they hadn't separated since he led her into their seats, but for some reason it's distracting him. They shouldn't be holding hands, right? He likes it though, enjoys the warmth and the feeling of - of _togetherness._ He tells himself he's just lonely, it's pathetic.

Harry withdraws his hand and immediately takes to fixing his cuffs, as if that had been his only intention for removing her touch. She clasps her hands in front of her.

Percy is talking now, his voice holding a note of emotion - emotion that isn't exasperation or disdain, "... I don't think I ever thought I would find someone like you. I'm - I'm not the easiest person to be around all the time, and I'm constantly _trying. Trying_ to be amicable, patient, easy-going, fun.. Around everyone, I'm trying to be someone else. But not you. You're the only person in the world who makes me feel safe and comfortable. I think I could live another lifetime and never find someone like you, Audrey. You're smart, loving, kind - _so beautiful -_ I don't know how I'm so fortunate but I know I won't ever take you for granted. I love you, and can't wait to start our bountiful life together."

Harry feels oddly emotional, but it's the sniff next to him from Hermione that startles him. He glances at her, silently asking her if she's ok. She nods, dabbing under her eyes with a tissue, and he feels there's more to her tears than happiness for the Weasleys. On impulse, he takes her hand and holds it tight, ignoring the balloon in his chest when she grips back as tightly.

He isn't going to analyse this, and in fact, he's going to spend most of the evening ignoring the fact that he holds her hand till they sit at their dinner table.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the layout of the tables is not conducive to mixing between the guests. Harry and Hermione are given the importance of sitting at the main table with the Weasleys, but they're at the end sitting across from each other. Ginny sits next to Hermione, with Ron beside Harry, and Dean the other side of Ginny. Luna is beside Ron as his date, but Ron had insisted that was only because he had already asked her to be his date to this wedding.

Truthfully, Harry and Hermione only occasionally bring dates to the balls, weddings and get togethers. Only significant others make it that far, of which Harry has had three and Hermione two.

He can't imagine coming to a wedding with your ex-girlfriend, if Luna could even be called that for Ron. Harry envisions the discomfort she must feel and momentarily wishes she and Ron had swapped places.

The dinner is standard, the same kind of options Harry has seen multiple times at weddings. In the last two years, he has been to five different weddings. Some were genuinely enjoyable, like Seamus and Parvati, and others were hell, like Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Harry is done making appearances at acquaintances weddings, colleagues or not. He and Theo spent many years begrudgingly together as Aurors, but they were never partners, and Harry could never truly say he trusted him.

A kick to his shin brings him abruptly out of his thoughts, "Ouch! I definitely didn't deserve that, Hermione,"

She looks at him wide-eyed, "What are you talking about?"

" _Harry,"_ Ginny interjects, "I was telling Dean about how you're hoping to be head of the auror department soon. Do you think you'll be the youngest ever?"

Harry is speechless for a minute, trying to discern the intention behind Ginny's question and how on earth he's supposed to sidestep it. Obviously noting his non-response, Ginny adds on, "Dean is doing extremely well in his field. Weren't you the only wizard to ever open a Gallery in Cork?"

He's not sure if Ginny is well rehearsed on her Geography, maybe she's just utterly supportive of her boyfriend, but Harry knows that Cork is a small city in Ireland. Harry glances at Hermione and sees she's amused, too, eyes flitting between Dean and Ginny.

Dean appears sheepish, "Well, Cork is a small city, there aren't a lot of wizards, never mind any that would be paintin-"

"Oh, so modest," Ginny gushes, placing her hand on his forearm.

Ron frowns and gestures with his fork between the two of them, "I don't understand, what's the deal here?"

"Um, well, we hope - we'd like to -" Dean flails about with his words, looking miserable.

"I'm sure they're doing just fine, Ron. We don't need details.. So rude.." Hermione tsks, shaking her head.

He shrugs, "It's just a question."

Harry watches as Hermione and Ginny speak softly to each other, the distinct words lost among the din of the crowd. He pushes the last of his pudding around his plate, hoping someone will refill their wine glasses soon. One of the upsides to weddings is the free food and drink, everyone knows that.

"Harry, what did you think of the latest Quibbler article?" Luna pipes up, bending her head close to the table to see him around Ron. He notices she still has several desserts on her plate, all half eaten, and is glad that her sweet tooth hasn't changed at least.

He should read every edition of the Quibbler in support of his close friend, but sometimes it slips his mind. It's not the easiest read, and often if he's in the apartment, Hermione reads over his shoulder and makes a series of disapproving and sceptical noises. Harry clears his throat, "Um, I may have missed it, Luna."

If she's disappointed, she doesn't show it, "Oh, not to worry, Harry. You would be so pleased though, I'll make sure I owl you a copy. We made sure the public knows you're not a secret agent for the Russian inferi."

"I - um - thank you?"

She beams, "Anytime, Harry. The Quibbler is always a friend."

Ron nods, "Luna has increased their sales by 60 percent since she started writing more of the articles."

In a mildly uncharacteristic move, Luna averts her eyes back to her plate and takes another bite of pie, "It could be any reason, you know how Hermione always says, correlation does not imply causation.."

"I'm probably a bit too fond of that phrase, Luna. Sounds like you're the success for the Quibbler." Hermione smiles at her friend, and though it's soft, Harry knows it's genuine. He's so thankful they get along now, that two of his favourite people have come to some understanding of each other. He can't explain it, but Harry feels brighter seeing Hermione's kindness.

So often, people only see her strict, argumentative side and he likes when people see beneath that to the Hermione who defends and fights to the death for her friends, who is compassionate about creature rights and will always listen to anyone's problems.

Luna only returns the expression, "You can reward me with an interview when you're Minister of Magic."

Hermione laughs, "You'll be putting a pin in that for quite a while."

"We all know it's coming, Hermione, we're ready to stand with you," Ginny jokes, nudging her friend good-naturedly.

Ron surprises them all by asking Luna to dance, who accepts immediately. Ginny turns to Hermione and Harry, "I thought they were finished?"

Harry _almost_ says 'you're one to talk', but catches himself at the last minute. Hermione throws her arms in the air, "Who knows with those two. I do think they are actually finished though. Luna mentioned to me earlier that it hasn't been working, if it ever did, and they're much better as friends."

"Ron will just make girl friends and date them until he can handle one of them," Ginny responds with a roll of his eyes.

He sees Hermione freeze and narrow her eyes at her glass, thinking, "What do you mean by that?"

Ginny instantly appears mortified, her face turning red and her hands fidgeting in front of her, "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean anything - you're my best friend, Ron's a prat for ever letting you go - not that he _let_ you go, of course. Oh, stop looking at me like that, I'm an idiot," Hermione bursts into laughter and clinks her glass against Ginny's in a universal understanding of 'don't worry about it'.

Dean, who has remained quiet for most of the meal, finally finds his voice and asks Ginny to dance. Harry watches as couples twirl onto the dancefloor, swaying to the more formal, old Wizarding music numbers that the newlyweds had opted for. It reminds him of his Yule Ball days, meticulously counting out his steps as he tried in vain not to step on his partners toes. He watches the mesmerising synchronicity of the dancefloor, everyone moving as one, as if completing some bizarre ritual. Luna's smile is wide and carefree, Ron laughing as he repeatedly misses steps or adds in his own spin.

He wonders what it is about Ron that draws in two of his closest friends, only to end amicably. Dating friends is a bad idea, he is a very clear example of this. Harry can only think of a handful of examples where friends to lovers works well. George and Angelina, of course, are the prime candidates.

It had taken several years after the war for them to reconnect, to bond over their shared grief and understanding of Fred. This later blossomed into something meaningful, pivotal, and for the rest of the Weasley family, relieving. There was a time when everyone wondered if George would ever come back.

Hermione moves to take Ginny's seat, her elbow coming to rest on the back of the chair as she watches the same scene as him, "I'm glad Ron is being good to Luna."

"Me, too," He takes a sip from his wine glass, "Maybe we don't give him enough credit. He's not seventeen anymore. What was it you called him? Emotion of a teaspoon?"

She laughs, "The emotional range of a teaspoon.. God, I was so harsh."

" _Was?"_

"Shove off. You were mean enough to Ron this morning with your Lorcan comment."

"That was hilarious, and you know it. He looks like Dracula tonight."

"Give him a leather jacket and it's Grease Lightning." They let out a snicker at their own wit, and it's only allowed because Ron does look good anyway. He's handsome in his tux and slick hair, if he looked bad they would have awkwardly ignored it all.

"I feel it's probably time I put in my customary ten minutes on the dancefloor. Do you want to join me?"

Hermione nods, drains the last of her drink, "Sure, let's go."

It's pure luck that they arrive to a new song, one that is slightly more upbeat but involves a number of spins and turns. Harry is acutely aware each time his hand presses against her back of the bare flesh, and restrains himself from running his hand up and down the length of her spine. This is ridiculous, he's acting like some sort of crazed pervert. He can control himself, that's no problem. It's Hermione, everything is ok.

Toward the end of the song, his hand rests on her lower back again, pulling their bodies together tightly. Harry looks down and meets her eyes, and he thinks he imagines the hitch in her breath, puts it down to him wanting her to return his lust, pushes the feelings down as he withdraws. There's something in her expression that he has only seen a handful of times.

This isn't the first time he has felt like this around Hermione, but he's becoming concerned with the frequency of it. If he's utterly honest with himself, the first time is probably back in the oppressive cocoon of their tent during the Horcrux hunt. That was just loneliness. It's loneliness now, too.

It's natural to gravitate towards one of the closest women in his life, who is beautiful and wonderful. Harry knows that's all it is. He's seen Ron do this twice now, and he isn't making the same mistakes.

"Harry, do you ever - do you ever think about -"

He leans forward unconsciously, wanting to hear better, but also to silently encourage her to finish her thought. Hermione's eyes are flickering all over his face, and by the second he feels the moment slip away, "Have you ever thought that all this tim-"

"Can I cut in?" Ginny's voice is bright, unaware of the intensity Harry is feeling. Maybe that's his imagination, is Hermione out of sorts too? Maybe he's drunk, he briefly considers. Harry feels uncomfortable, hot, and has the desire to run. Before he can verbalise anything that would accomplish this, Hermione is stepping out of his arms and linking him with Ginny.

"Of course, I've been meaning to catch up with Neville and Hannah anyway." Helplessly, Harry's eyes follow her as she walks to their friends table, both her hands tucking hair behind her ears slowly. He sees her inhale, shoulders rising, before falling suddenly. She sits next to the engaged couple and Harry turns back to Ginny.

His eyes widen when he finds her already gazing at him, "Hey, there," They begin to dance, but there's something about the look in her eyes that makes him nervous, "Where did Dean go?"

"I'm not sure," she responds, and there's nothing in her tone to suggest she even cares.

Harry frowns, "Are you okay, Ginny?"

She looks down, away from him, "Yes. You know I love you, right?"

Startled, Harry steps on her toes instantly, "Oh, Merlin, sorry. That, um, that's a bit of a shock, Gin. People don't generally say that to their ex-boyfriend."

"You're family though," She says, as if that explains everything, as if that's the simple, straight answer to the twisting, contorted mess.

Thinking carefully, wary of the consequences of his words, Harry responds, "That's true, I love all the Weasley's."

Ginny appears somewhat satisfied by this. Her hair is falling around her shoulders, and he recalls fondly the time he spent obsessing over the vibrant, softness of her locks. There was something utterly enthralling about her hair, and Harry admires them now with a very different emotion.

As if reading his thoughts, Ginny remarks, "You look great,"

"Cheers, you too. How is Percy enjoying his day? I haven't seen him much."

"Oh, you know Percy," she rolls her eyes, "Any opportunity to network."

"What better place than your own wedding?" He asks with a snort.

She laughs. After another dance, Ginny slows, "I better find Dean. I'm glad we're friends Harry, okay?"

"Me, too, Ginny." He means it. It had taken him time to come to terms with the end of his future, and with it the possibility of becoming an official Weasley, but Harry knows now it was the right decision. Seeing her flying all over the world, holding press conferences, being a charming star, Harry is confident they couldn't have made each other happy.

They're fighters, and they would have fought tooth and nail to keep the relationship alive, working themselves to exhaustion, but that isn't what Harry wants. He wants a genuine, heart-racing love, but one with security, comfort and _trust_.

By the end of all these bloody weddings, maybe he'll have found that.

* * *

Being war heroes, Harry and his friends' behaviour is rather limited in the Wizarding world. There's usually vapid journalists like Skeeter salivating at the possibility of scandalous photos, or children waiting around every corner with wide eyes and a photo to be signed. From fame to worship, there's little they can do without some level of scrutiny. Some of them are more uncomfortable with this fact than others, but he knows everyone appreciates an occasional night away from it all to be anonymous.

The anonymity of the Muggle world makes Harry almost giddy sometimes. Part of him resents living as a muggle at all, causes him to recall horrible memories where he felt the shame of magic, but for the most part he relishes walking unnoticed amongst crowds of people.

Percy's wedding had ended at 11pm _sharp,_ and he had been feeling a bit peeved until Ginny had suggested they hit a club in Muggle London. That's how Harry ends up sitting in a booth in some club his friends had dragged him to. He's utterly willing - he _has_ had a bottle of wine - but he also knows that there needs to be a good balance of people who know how to act like a muggle. All too often, one of the purebloods slip up and they have to cover tracks.

The room is dark, but there are beams of neon coloured lights that dart across everyone's faces regularly, too. He likes the way it lights up his friends faces before slowly melting away to the background again. Hannah sits to his right, engaged in an animated discussion with Hermione and Ginny that yields peels of laughter, while Ron and Neville sit to his left retelling their favourite action movie scenes in excruciating detail.

He glances over toward the dance floor, noting with some amusement the stark difference between the moving bodies there and how they were back at the wedding. There's no synchronicity here, it seems to flaunt the chaotic nature of rhythm rather than bow rigidly to it. George and Angelina pose ridiculously, laughing all the while, and the sight makes him smile.

"Nice to see, isn't it?" Neville shouts in his ear, causing Harry to wince a bit.

"I'm happy for him. Where did Ron go?"

Neville shrugs, and Harry notices that he's staring at Hannah with a small smile on his face. He had been rather preoccupied in school (Voldemort, anyone?) and had never known there was a little flirtation between Neville and Hannah in fifth and sixth year. Ginny had once laughed at his obliviousness, explaining that it had once been the top gossip of the D.A.

At the time, it had soothed him somewhat that Hermione and Ron hadn't noticed either.

It's entirely blatant now though, and it should be given their engagement.

"Shots, shots, shots!" Ron shouts, returning to the table with a tray of them, along with a bowl of sliced limes and a salt shaker. Harry almost groans, and braces his hand against his mouth for a moment in preparation.

Everyone takes their drink, salt and lime with enthusiasm, and they all cheers before practicing the tequila ritual. He clenches his teeth after sucking the lime, hoping the drink will settle in his stomach instead of somersaulting around.

There's a woman standing beside Ron, talking closely with a smirk on her face. He doesn't recognise her, and Harry is left to assume that she's a Muggle. She's wearing black trousers and a small, strappy, red top that displays a sliver of midriff. Hannah leans into him, "There's no way he can successfully chat up a muggle, right?"

He scoffs, "Ron Weasley? No way. He has a lot of strengths, subtlety is not one of them."

"You can say that again," Hannah replies, clearly amused as they see Ron stretch his arm to wrap around the woman. "He has charm though."

"Don't let Neville hear you say that,"

Hannah chuckles, "Neville would eat all those limes before saying anything bad about you three,"

Harry isn't sure if it's the alcohol, but he's touched by Hannah's words and feels obliged to return it, "Neville is one of the best."

"You have no idea," She turns to him now, meeting his eyes, "He's just so - so selfless, you know? And brave. Always thinking of others, and risking his own reputation, money, or career to do it. Merlin, at Hogwarts he so readily risked his life. We all did. But Neville, I - I just.. He makes me want to be a better person, you know? Worthy of someone like that." She picks up a drink from table and sips it, "I don't know, maybe I'm drunk,"

Normally, Harry would have at least a modicum of discomfort listening to this, but he's not sure if it's the alcohol or age that makes him listen with a sense of fondness. He's so glad his old friend is with someone so _good._ "Hannah, that's amazing to hear. We should want to be good for our partners. What do I know though? 'Chosen one' and I'm single still - and before you say anything, yes to your last bit. You are drunk. And - and what else was I going to say?"

He ponders this, frustrated by the words that slip away from him. His attention is drawn as Neville abruptly pulls Hannah up, causing a giggle to erupt from her before he kisses her soundly and drags her to dance. Hermione scoots over to take her place, swaying slightly in her seat to the beat.

Emboldened by the greatest Gryffindor, Mr. Tequila, Harry reaches out and pulls her back to him. Hermione looks at him in surprise but then settles back against him, her shoulder tucked against his chest. Her hand reaches up to hold his that dangles over her other shoulder.

He inhales, wishing he could ignore all the alarm bells in his head, and leans down to say in her ear, "I'm sorry for what happened at Theo's wedding." He knows his breath is probably hot and horrible in her ear, but Harry had been swallowing this guilt for weeks now.

She stills, and suddenly he wishes that they were not sitting like this. Harry thinks if he could see her face, read her expression, he would know exactly what to say.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione has to strain her voice over the music.

He moves to sit beside her, drawing her eyes to his, "When - when that old crusty Gerald Howard said he was surprised I could arrive with someone of your background and -"

"Yes, Harry, I remember," She interrupts, somewhat impatient, "You can't control what people say, it's fine,"

"I know, but I should have defended more than your birth status, I should have said more - Christ, I should have hexed him right there -"

Hermione puts a hand on his to silence him, and in a miraculous move, it does. "You can't control everyone. I'm fine. He's a nobody. And anyway, don't you remember what Luna always says?"

Harry can't help but grin as they recite together, "Never trust someone with a first name surname."

His eyes slide to the dancefloor, "I wonder how Dean would feel about that."

"Probably no worse than he does now, with Ginny acting so strange all night."

"You noticed that?" Harry asks, grateful it hadn't been in his mind. He always has to second guess his reactions and emotions around Ginny, hoping he isn't burying some unresolved feelings. He's certain now those feelings are gone.

She nods, "Oh, yes, Not very subtle." Hermione closes her eyes then, grimacing, "I think that shot is hitting home now."

"Do you want to go?" Harry is acutely aware of their touching legs and the heat radiating from her. He's worried he's going to do something stupid and distance seems to be the best solution to that. Harry has been in this situation before - it's just because he misses having a girlfriend. It's not Hermione. It's not.

"No, no. Ron is looking cosy with the new woman, Harry. We need to make an effort, too. C'mon," She pats his leg, "Let's go to the bar and see if we can chat anyone up."

He frowns but allows himself to be pulled up and toward the bar. Harry could easily point out that flirting with muggles for this purpose is almost useless - if only his brain were working so quickly. Instead, he ponders why he feels so queasy, and whether the shot had been a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Lorcan D'Eath is a vampire singer, canon in HP universe, but I don't actually know if his hair is gelled.. I'm going with the stereotypical vampire haha
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, thanks again for reading
> 
> CR.


	3. Neville and Hannah

Hermione blinks from her seat on the bed as another shoe goes sailing past her to clatter on the ground. She has learned a lot since her teen years about make-up, hair, making an effort but there's an urgency to getting ready that she never picked up. Ginny embodies it, running around her room in a frenzy as she adds touches to her look and searches for god know what.

"Just wear the shoes you brought, Ginny," Hermione finally says, struggling to keep the exasperation from her tone.

The woman snaps around to her, "I should, shouldn't I? Agh, why am I second guessing myself so much here…" She marches to the corner of the room where her overnight bag is and pulls out a pair of nude heels. Hermione glances at the clock on her locker and smiles - they're still well on time. It had been a strategy to invite Ginny over for the night, a wager that the other woman would get ready faster if Hermione is there.

Hermione is genuinely _excited_ for the day ahead. She feels it in her bones; a restlessness born from happiness. Neville is marrying Hannah, there's no couple she would rather see get tie the knot. Hannah is smart and lovely, she's perfect for Neville and fits right in with their group. As for Neville, she's thrilled to see him overcome his childhood insecurities and doubts to be the amazing man he is today.

"How do I look?" Ginny puts her hand on her hip and cocks it, her silken cream robes melting over her skin appealingly. It's strange for Hermione to see women dress in white and cream for weddings, but in the wizarding world, there is no tradition of the bride wearing white. Several weddings later and she still can't bring herself to wear the colour and not feel uncomfortable.

She smiles and tells her truthfully, "You look amazing, Ginny! Dean will be gobsmacked."

Ginny falters a little, her smile shrinks for a second, "Oh, well, I don't know, Dean and I aren't really a thing.." She shakes, as if shaking off the thought. Ginny pulls Hermione out of her seat then and twirls her, "You look fit, Hermione! You'll be fighting off the men."

Hermione glances down at her light red, almost pink, robes with a modest slit to her thigh. She much prefers muggle attire or even black tie, but Hermione is forced to accept she must get used to robes. They're so impractical, though.

"Thanks, Ginny. Should we wait for the boys in the living room?"

She walks towards the door, not waiting for a response, when Ginny's voice pipes up from behind her, "You mentioned you had a date for this again, who is it? Are you meeting them there?"

Hermione can't help the hand that flies to the bridge of her nose in response, anticipating the headache to come, "Oh, you know.. I actually only invited him to the dinner."

Ginny frowns, sitting beside Hermione on the couch and delicately fixing her dress to fan around her, "What, why? Do I know this guy? You've been awfully tight-lipped. I'm telling you, this bloody competition you feel now with Ron and Harry is stupid."

Hermione laughs, "There's no competition. Look, don't react - promise me you won't say anything?" She glares her friend into submission, who eventually holds her hands up in a sign of neutrality, "Well, it's Dennis Creevey."

Silence reigns for several seconds as the corners of Ginny's mouth twitches. Gradually, her nose wrinkles and she asks, "Isn't he like… twenty-four?"

"Twenty-three," Hermione admits in a quiet voice, "But he keeps asking me to invite him so he can take pictures at these 'war hero' weddings, and I couldn't say no, he's such an innocent little angel."

"Innocent little angel?" Ginny snorts, "Sounds like you're _really_ attracted to him."

Hermione shrugs, "We're going as friends. I probably won't be attracted to him, but what can I do? Better to have a date now that Ron and Harry do."

"Is it better? Is it, really? You know they're going to take the piss something awful." Ginny sighs, "I'll try to be on your side, but you have to admit, Hermione.. You're not making it easy. It's pretty funny."

Her mouth twitches again and Hemione rolls her eyes, "Go on, then."

" _Dennis Creevey?_ Have you got some headshots and autographs at the ready?" Ginny chortles, "I didn't realise we'd have a fan club for the evening."

Hermione swats at her friend, "Sod off, Ginny, he's not 12 anymore. Ok, _fine_ , stop with the eyebrows, it is a bit funny."

"Oh, if only I could tell sixteen year old Hermione Granger.." Ginny says wistfully, "That might have kickstarted you and Ron a bit."

"What a delight that would have been, it worked out so well when it did happen," Hermione's voice is flat, and she's on the precipice of rolling her eyes when Harry finally arrives.

"You both look great. Is Ron not ready?" Harry stops to look in the living room mirror, flattening down some of his hair. It's a fruitless task but she likes watching him try anyway. Years of toying with it had taught Harry how to almost manage it - much like Hermione - but there's always a chaotic quality to it. It's probably good, too, the man shouldn't look perfect. Hermione allows her eyes to survey his figure just once before looking back to Ginny. Harry turns, "I'll grab him."

"Probably smoking again," Hermione tells Ginny dully, "I wish he'd give up."

"Not your problem, Granger. Harry looks lush in those robes, doesn't he?" Her expression is somewhat playful, and Hermione raises an eyebrow in askance.

"Do you still - ?"

Ginny immediately cuts her off with a scoff, "No, no, Harry and I are done, you know that. I played a silly, immature jealousy game with Dean a couple of months ago but I learned my lesson."

"Hmm." Hermione makes a sceptical noise, "Is everything okay?"

There's something genuinely disarming when vulnerability flashes across Ginny Weasley's face, but the woman covers it up with a flick of her hair over her shoulder, "Please, I'm in the prime of my life, I'm ready for a night of fun and debauchery."

Hermione chuckles dutifully, but the look on Ginny's face lingers in her mind. She can't help but feel a bit worried; Ginny is keeping something from her, and whatever it is, it's causing her pain.

Before they can resume conversation, Harry bounds into the room dragging a grumbling Ron at that moment.

* * *

It's the most beautiful wedding venue Hermione has ever been in. They're in a remote, secluded area of England in a mansion - though, it could be considered a castle in her opinion - that the couple has rented out for several days. With expansive, green grounds, they've erected a greenhouse outside and it's filled with the most stunning and diverse specimens of herbology.

Hermione's mouth is agape as she approaches the greenhouse, with its large, clear window panes and white iron casing holding it up. The iron curls in an ornate design at the corners, adding to the rustic but charming look. At the double doors, there's Seamus Finnegan, one of the groomsmen. Hermione walks a little ahead of her friends, eager to tune out the bickering between Ginny and Ron and soak herself in the marvellous area Neville and Hannah created.

"Hermione, great to see you," Seamus says, and they share a quick hug. He holds his wand out in askance, "It's very hot in there, will I apply a cooling charm or will you do it yourself?"

She had forgotten how hot greenhouses were, and of course the plants need the heat so they can't cool the whole building. Her wand is in her holster on her inner thigh, and Hermione is too excited to wait and retrieve it. She nods to Seamus, "Yes, please, that would be great if you could do it."

He does and instantly she feels a cool, cold sensation encase her body. Hermione shivers, momentarily too cold until she gets inside, "Thank you."

He picks up a flower from the table behind him she only notices now. It's similar to a large sunflower, but just the head, the steam having been cut off. The centre is a multi colour of red, sinking into pink, melding into purple and blue. The petals are a vibrant red - it looks like they have different types with petals red, blue, yellow and green respectively. The green pile is remarkably smaller.

"This is beautiful, what do I do with it?" Harry, Ron and Ginny are behind her now, clustered around and eyeing the flower in her hand.

"Oh, shiny things, I love it," Ginny says, leaning closer before snapping up to the groomsman, "Hi, Seamus, can I get one?"

Seamus begins to hand out the flowers and repeats the same conversation about the cooling charm. Harry turns to her as he performs his own charm, "Cold?"

"No, I always have goosebumps all over my arms and shiver uncontrollably,"

"I hadn't noticed," He replies, grinning. "This is amazing, isn't it? Trust Neville to show everyone else up."

"Oi, I heard that!" Seamus interjects, although he appears thoroughly amused, "At least I didn't have my groomsmen standing greeting feckin' everyone all morning. Do you know how many times I've had the same conversation? Wish I could have just got it tattooed on my head."

They all laugh at this, amused by his exasperation. New guests arrive behind them and Seamus ushers them forward, "Go on, third row for you lot. For the flowers, just hold them gently in your hands until the end. You don't have to do anything else with them."

A thousand questions burn Hermione instantly, the curiosity brimming over as she ponders why they could possibly have to hold these beautiful flowers for the duration of the ceremony. How delicate are they also? What if she damages it accidentally? As various scenarios start crashing into Hermione's head, she struggles to think of one particular question to ask him, except, "But, Seamus, what are they for - if I don't know, how am I supposed to make sure I do it right -"

"Come on, Hermione, it will be fine," Harry says, his hand on her back pushing her forward.

She begins to protest, "We could ruin the whole thing if -"

"If it was that easily ruined, they wouldn't do it. So wh - wow. Look at this place," Hermione has rarely heard such awe in Harry's voice and glances around, taken aback by what she sees. Plants of various shape, size and colour are lined up along the walls. On the ground there are flowers, blooming and dissolving before blooming again in different colours, entwined around vines of deep, healthy green. White, iron wrought benches are lined up, leading to the top of the room where there is an arch made entirely of two trees - something close to weeping trees from the Muggle world - leaning forward to each other, looping around each other and releasing continuously, their leaves fluttering down to the ground. The way they move looks almost sentient, and she's enraptured for a moment, stopping still in her tracks. Hermione, with her vast encyclopedic knowledge, has never known herbology to look like this.

Ginny pushes her forward this time, Harry having walked ahead. Hermione sits next to him, flower cradled gently in her palms still, and takes a minute to look around at the other guests. There is a shared sense of awe between them all, blinking at their surroundings in wonder. It's so apt for the day, Hermione already wants to cry.

She hears a sniff and turns to Ginny, startled, but the other woman swipes a single tear away, "Merlin, I'm so happy for them. He deserves this so much. He - he's such a good person, Hermione."

Hermione places the flower in her lap delicately, then clasps Ginny's hand, "I completely agree."

"Ugh, this is so stupid, I can't _believe_ I'm getting weepy. Didn't even cry at my own brothers wedding!"

"This is all a bit overwhelming though, isn't it? It's breathtaking."

Ginny nods. Anything she may have intended to say is cut off when Seamus walks up the aisle, a sonorus charm clearly in place, "If everyone could please stand for the bride and groom, Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom."

Everyone stands, silence befalling the room. The only sounds remaining are the gentle rustling of leaves, the shifting of vines and falling of petals. It's extremely tranquil. Hermione is tempted to close her eyes, try her hand at meditation.

People clap politely as Susan Bones walks down the aisle, red-faced and forcing a smile. Hermione knows she's shy, this must be a nightmare task to walk in front of everyone. She looks great, with deep yellow golden robes and her hair tied up in a bun. She is abruptly aware of the happy couples entrance when everyone starts to cheer wildly, Ron even putting his two fingers in his mouth and letting out a long whistle.

Hermione cranes her neck to see, and is relieved to finally see them approaching her row. With arms linked, Neville and Hannah walk together, close and intimate. He whispers something in her ear and she nudges him, but her face is alight with a broad smile. Hannah is wearing velvet robes, silver, that shimmer as she moves. Neville has opted for traditional black robes, but he cuts an imposing figure now that he has grown.

Her heart clenches, deliriously happy for two of the best people she knows. Harry grabs her hand, squeezing it. Ginny does this at the same time from her other side, and she feels them share the same staggering sensation of joy.

They have a beautiful ceremony, Hermone observing with interest that they opt for the more modern version. There's a light bonding charm, non-permanent, that wraps around them in a light blue colour, thin as lace, as they say their vows. Neville looks at Hannah and wipes his eyes, voice wavering, "You look gorgeous. How am I supposed to make some lovely speech in front of everyone when you look like that? Hannah, people make casual statements about luck all the time when getting married. I _really_ am the luckiest, we both are. You make me want to believe in things like soulmates because we fit each other so perfectly, it's like we were made specifically for each other. You're so kind, patient, smart and just.. Just one of the best people I've ever met. I'm going to spend every day making sure you know that. Making sure we are as happy as we are now. I've never been happier in my whole life than I am right now, and when I'm with you."

Hannah is openly crying, and Susan moves forward swiftly to pass a handkerchief. While she is dabbing at her eyes, Hermione sees Ron rub his forearm against his own eyes and raises her brows.

"Neville," Hannah speaks, her voice clear and strong, "You're absolutely right we fit perfectly, what you said nearly matches what I had written down. What am I supposed to say now?" She asks, and there is a titering of laughter among the guests, "You're simply an amazing human, you make me want to be the best version of myself, you put everyone first and never hesitate to speak for what is right. But you're also kind, thoughtful, sweet. You make me the happiest I've ever been and I'm excited that we'll do that for the rest of our lives. I love you."

Hermione sees Neville mouth 'I love you, too' as people begin to clap.

With the ceremony complete, they share a chaste kiss after which they turn and nod to the guests, everyone now applauding loudly. Neville grabs her hand and thrusts their joined palms into the air. Together, they say, "To life!"

Hermione feels the flower in her hands react to this, rising slightly off their spot and shaking. She looks quickly at her friends to see if the same thing is happening. Seconds pass and suddenly, all the flowers erupt, sending thousands of tiny flowers and petals bursting into the air, an explosion of rainbow colours. It's like it's snowing, but a snow of summer, of lightness, warmth and so much _colour._

Hermione turns to Harry, radiant, both of them laughing in shock of the beauty falling around them, "This is amazing!" She says, incapable of further speech.

"Beautiful," He responds, similarly robbed of better vocabulary. His eyes are bright, the green alight with glee, and it's all so overwhelming that Hermione has the greatest urge to throw her arms around him. This is what they fought for. And Harry, looking like that, so free, easy, happy - that's what Hermione fought for, too.

With that in mind, Hermione gives into her urge and puts her arms around his neck tightly, hugging him with the fierceness she used to after a summer without him.

* * *

Once outside, Hermione sees that they've now set up the reception about twenty yards from the greenhouse. She hopes that she hadn't simply missed it in her haste to reach the ceremony, but Hermione likes to think she has more observational skills than that. She can't have missed this.

There's dozens of small round tables, covered in white, silken tablecloths that have silver threaded patterns running through. The chairs are identical to the benches in the greenhouse, but are singular and appear to have cushions on them, thankfully. Not that she can't perform a cushioning charm if needs be. There are silver gleaming statues in the centre of each table, flowers placed artfully in the corners of the structures. Hermione squints her eyes, trying to make out what the statues are. As they near, she finally sees that they're different types of trees.

Hermione snorts to herself, of course Neville's wedding would be rampant with the theme of nature. He's lucky Hannah enjoys nature as much. That said, Hermione is sure she would love a wedding like this and she has no such affinity for the outdoors.

"What's so funny?" Ron asks, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

"Neville's a bit on the nose with the theme, isn't he? It's so beautiful though that it works."

"I've never been to a ceremony like that, bloody awful. Had me in tears!"

She laughs, "You know it's all healthy." Hermione doesn't dare make any tease about Ron crying. She remembers too well the aftermath of the war, the inability for him to process his emotions and let them out. Ron had gone on a rampage of drinks, women and even some 'party potions' after the war. It had never been an addiction, but it certainly wasn't healthy, and it took a lot of time for him to come to terms with crying, _grieving_ , over his brothers death. Harry wasn't any better.

Hermione hates that any man, or person, would feel the need to hide that. Although, she thinks with some humility, she could probably do with a dose of that. While in Hogwarts, the boys had seen her cry enough to write a book on it.

They stop at the tables. Names are glittering in the air above each one, also silver, but easily seen with how bright they are. Ron and Hermione trace their way past each table, wondering where theirs is, "Do you think we're all at the same table?" She glances back to see Harry and Ginny walking behind them still, pointing to various tables, clearly undertaking the same action as she and Ron.

"Definitely," Ron says with conviction, "There's no way he would make us sit with other people. We hate other people."

"Ron!"

"Well we _do._ Look, there we go! Lucky you, 'Mione, sat beside yours truly for the night."

"If you call me that again, I'll stick my wand in your eye." Ron is long unbothered by Hermione's casual threats of violence and winks.

Hermione takes a mental picture of the table, her name glittering madly above the dinner place. Next to her is Ron, and on her other side is Dennis. She hopes he can find his way here okay, and starts to worry that perhaps she should go find him, guide him to the table - wait.

Her thoughts are stopped short when her eyes wander along the rest of the table. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Katie Bell, Luna, Dean, Harry, Daphne, Dennis..

_Daphne._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! So Neville/Hannah wedding has been split into two chapters as it was too long - 8k, 20 pages. Don't worry about Daphne, she is not going to be a big character in this.
> 
> When do you think I should post next chapter? Maybe later today?
> 
> Thanks so much to all who have left kudos and comments, please let me know your thoughts on this if you feel up to it.


	4. Best Wedding Ever, they say

Harry had told them all he's bringing a date, but had been strangely vague about who it is. The 'why' clicks into place as she racks her brain, unable to pinpoint who Daphne is. It's at the tip of her tongue, she knows it's someone from Hogwarts.. Someone not in Gryffindor, someone she doesn't feel overly positive or negative toward..

"Harry, you git, is that a Slytherin you're bringing?"

They all take their seats and Hermione is distracted by the disappearance of their names once they hit the chairs, wondering what particular piece of magic had been used to do that. She has plenty of questions for Neville and Hannah about all the magic in the wedding, Hermione just hopes she remembers all of them.

With the two empty seats between them, Hermione can hear Harry's crisp response with ease, "Ron, I swear to God, if you mention once anything about the war or Slytherin -"

"She _was_ in Slytherin though!" He argues, and she can see the tips of his ears begin to redden.

With a surprising level of vehemence, Harry shuts him down, "Don't start that, she had no part in the Death Eaters. Move on and try to meet her half way."

She feels a tad uncomfortable seeing Harry defend her against Ron. If anything, Harry should be taking Ron's side. He's on their team, although Hermione is willing to give Daphne a chance, it doesn't sit right with her that Harry is so strongly on her side. She tries to take a moment to pinpoint why she has these feelings, but then Ginny is kicking her, "Hermione, you'll be nice to Daphne, right?"

Hermione glares at Ron as he lights a cigarette, "Of course, I'll try."

"Good," She responds, satisfied, "One of us has to be and I'm rubbish with Slytherins. No sense of humor, that lot. Blaise Zabini once nearly hexed me because I asked if it was the dungeons that caused that _Slytherin_ smell, but - Oh, Daphne! Hi!"

The woman is nowhere near the table yet, but the panic on Ginny's face is clear and she looks to Hermione, a silent plea of 'did she hear?'. Hermione shakes her head, "Definitely not."

She turns her head slightly to see Daphne, who is wearing dark silver robes - how could she have known, after all, but she matches the decor effortlessly - and has her blonde hair flowing in natural curls, voluminous and healthy.

Hermione wants to scowl, but doesn't know why. Determined to shake it off, Hermione rises from her seat. Harry greets Daphne with a kiss on both cheeks, something that causes Hermione to look at Ron in surprise, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. He begins to introduce them then, "Daphne, this is Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,"

On their best behaviour, they all shake Daphne's hand and say the appropriate greetings. She settles next to Harry and they begin to chat about who knows what. Hermione regards them, as if looks alone will tell her how on earth they know each other and why Harry asked her here.

"Hello everyone," Hermione's staring is interrupted by Luna, who has arrived with Dean. They're not together, she knows, but seemed to have walked from the ceremony together. They take their seats, "Wasn't that a beautiful ceremony?"

Hermione is surprised to find herself gushing, "Oh it was magical, Luna! It's impressive they created something like that."

"With a little creativity, it's surprising what normal things can be," Luna says, "I even thought I saw some faerie dust, but it would be very hard for them to travel so far."

There's no such thing as faeries, and Hermione turns to Dean instead, "Hi, how are you, Dean?"

Conversation begins to flow between everyone, separating into little pockets of chatter. She's glad Ron is next to her, he is often a larger-than-life presence, cracking jokes and easing tensions. Harry is larger-than-life in a very different way.

Dennis arrives, and Hermione has a fleeting feeling of annoyance that her date is not nearly so enviable as Harry's. Dennis has scrubbed up well, and he's sporting some stubble now in an effort to appear a little older. His face is young as ever, round cheeks and big eyes, with coiffed hair and light grey robes. Hermione likes him as a friend though, he's a lovely person.

"Dennis! It's so good to see you!" Hermione exclaims, hugging him.

She ignores the sound of Ron coughing and, presumably, Ginny kicking him under the table in response. Hermione, with a nervous chuckle, says, "Dennis, you know everyone here. Ron, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Harry and Daphne."

He gives a small wave and takes his seat. Hermione feels some of her nerves settle. "I'm so glad you found us okay, I was worried you wouldn't see the table,"

"The name in bright lights helped," Dennis answers, and while that response would sound sarcastic coming from either of her best friends, he instead sounds bashful.

"That it does. It's odd seeing so many of Gryffindor back together again, isn't it?"

He nods enthusiastically, "Absolutely! And Katie, she was always lovely to me, letting me take pictures of the team and chasers posing. I'm looking forward to catching up with her." Dennis glances to the side before looking back at her, "Can - can I ask.. Is Daphne friends with Neville? I don't believe I know who she is."

Hermione doesn't know why that makes her feel better, but it does. "No, she was in our year in school. I'm not sure how she and Harry reconnected, but he invited her today."

"Oh. _Oh._ " Understanding lights up his face, "Interesting.."

"So, Dennis," Ron starts, and Hermione hopes that the man cannot detect the amusement in Ron's voice, the silent taunt of Hermione, "How are things?"

She'll probably give Ron a good kick in the shins later, too.

"Great, thanks. I do some odd jobs for the Daily Prophet and that, but they're a bit boring so I'm looking around."

Katie Bell turns up just before their menus appear in front of them. Hermione taps her choice three times with her wand, and it disappears again. She looks around, hoping to see Neville and finally spots him at the centre table with Hannah, his grandmother, Hannah's parents, Seamus, Parvati, Susan and Susan's date. She smiles at the sight.

"White or red, Ms?" An elf appears beside her wearing formal clothes, which Hermione is incredibly heartened to see.

"Red, please, thank you so much." The glass appears in front of her, and he fills it with a bottle of wine that is now in his hand. He takes everyone's order then, polite and so natural that Hermione thinks it's almost like a human waiter.

Dinner is served thirty minutes after they ordered, to her relief as she only had toast for breakfast. As she eats her food, Hermione takes the time to soak in the atmosphere around her. It feels like one of those days she will look back on for the rest of her life as meaningful, heartfelt and light. There's so much heaviness and darkness, it's truly liberating to be at an event with such an abundance of happiness.

It's everyone deciding to embrace it, to abandon their private nightmares and worries, their flashbacks and tears, and try to respond in kind to the joy of Hannah and Neville. To her right, Harry and Daphne are listening to a story from Dennis, although the man peppers in questions to both of them with increasing occurrence, and she marvels at the lack of irritation at this. Dennis isn't cowering under the intimidation of Harry, and Harry isn't huffing with impatience.

Ron is talking loudly across the table at Dean, but she has lost track of the conversation and only knows that he is passionate about the fact that they 'just don't make them the same anymore' . Luna looks equally amused, eyes floating back and forth between them. She catches Hermione's gaze and winks.

Katie and Ginny are laughing loudly at something Ginny is retelling, it seems to be Quidditch related judging by her gestures but she could never bet solidly on that with her friend.

Hermione leans back in her chair, content to watch for a minute and sip on her wine. For the next hour, she is drawn back into various conversations by her friends, often to settle a topic of debate, or share in a story of old times. Hermione's eyes land on the centerpiece of their table and frowns.

It's a tall tree, with a thick trunk, but there are no leaves on the tree. It's branches curl, almost into each other, disabling further growth, and some of the branches curl so far that they go back into the soil in the ground. She knows this is a magical tree, there is nothing in the Muggle world like that, but Hermione is not terribly interesting in herbology and if it isn't a plant that saves or takes lives, or creates some incredible compound, she probably hasn't read about it.

"Does anyone know what the tree is?" Hermione asks, but no one hears her at first. She nudges Dennis, drawing him from his conversation, and points to the centrepiece, "Do you know what tree that is?"

He takes his time observing it but then shrugs, and the two of them begin to ask the rest of the table. Slowly, other discussions die down as they look at the tree. Hermione should have guessed Dennis would be as useless as her - they both grew up in the Muggle world.

"Oh, I know what that is," Daphne says, returning to her seat as she had stood up to lean closer.

As she is about to continue, Ron interjects, "I do, too." He gestures to Luna, "There's loads of them in Ottery St. Catchpole."

Luna nods, "Yes, they're called weblings and it's said that the famed -"

"They're called propinquitas, I think," Daphne says, confusing lacing her tone as she looks at Luna. Surely she had heard of Luna in Hogwarts? Her commentary on the Quidditch match had been legendary.

"Luna's term is a bit more casual, I think. Like a folklore name." Ron answers, eyeing Daphne as if she were about to go on the offence with Luna.

Ginny and Katie cut the discussion short by standing and saying, "We're going to the bar to get something a bit stronger than wine. Anyone want anything?"

Hermione groans, knowing what the response is going to be. Ron jumps out of his chair, singing, "Shots! Shots! Shots!"

She turns to share their usual look of amusement with Harry, but he's speaking with Daphne, asking if she wants to have one. Hermione tries not to feel the sting of rejection, but it sneaks up on her and sits on her chest uncomfortably.

Hermione knows Ron will get her one regardless, so instead leaves to use the bathroom. The atmosphere of the day is getting to her, that's all. There's no reason she should be feeling like this and it's utterly absurd. Daphne seems like a lovely person, Hermione is delighted that Harry has brought a date so nice. There's nothing more to say about it.

She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, wishing she could wash her face without ruining makeup. There's probably a spell for it, but Hermione isn't familiar with one. Makeup had never been high on her priorities, after all.

This is simply an adjustment. She will have to let go of all those little moments with Harry and Ron as they meet women. The first person they turn to will not be her. Their inside jokes, looks of amusement or affection or - or - Merlin, this is silly, Hermione thinks.

No more thinking about it. She resolves this and leaves the bathroom. Of course, on a day of such fortune, it was just hers to bump into the one person she had been thinking about.

"Hey, are you okay? You look a bit down."

She shakes her head, letting the din of the guests chatter and laughter wash over her, "No, I'm good, I thought I had something in my eye."

Harry looks into her eyes for a moment, judging whether to believe her, before he nods, "If you say so. What do you think of Daphne?"

"She's nice, Harry. I'm happy for you." The words feel strange and treacherous on her tongue, but she forces that sensation from her mind.

He sighs, relieved, "Thank god. Ron is being a prat about it. It's not like we're dating or anything - we came as friends, but, you know.."

"It could happen," Hermione sings, trying to be positive, "Don't mind Ron, he'll come around."

"Maybe," Harry shrugs, "Your opinion is most important though so I'm glad to hear you approve! Ok, I _have_ to run to loo now."

Hermione laughs and continues back to their table. Strangely, their conversation has done nothing to improve the discomfort in her chest.

Everything becomes disorganised after the shots, as multiple tables decide to partake in the fun. Hermione has never been to a wedding with so many of her old classmates before. It makes sense, Hannah is a Hufflepuff and they're naturally friendly, while Neville is probably one of the nicest, down-to-earth Gryffindors.

It seems all the Gryffindors sit at their table. There's a table with a mix of Ernie McMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff, their dates, and some Ravenclaw classmates, Anthony Goldstein and some others she doesn't recognise but knows they attended Hogwarts. It's at times like these that Hermione realises how much Ron, Harry and she were in a bubble at school. There's numerous students that she has met after school who she doesn't recall a bit.

Hermione makes an effort to try speak with everyone she was on good terms with at Hogwarts. She laughs at Seamus retelling the rush to get ready this morning with Neville, and gasps when Parvati speculates that Hannah is pregnant - _'Don't you know, Hermione, I always had a sixth sense about gossip'._ Hermione wants to point out that they're not in school anymore, who cares about gossip, but for the sake of civility only smiles and changes the subject.

After a couple of hours, she finally gets time to say hello to the couple of the day. They're standing at the bar, chatting closely, when Hermione interrupts, "Hi, you guys, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to say congratulations properly. Congratulations!" She hugs them both, enjoying their chuckles at her words. "How are you doing?"

Hermione knows that she is drunk at this stage, having had a copious amount of wine and two shots, but she isn't prepared for the sloshed Neville that greets her, "Hermi-ney! So good to see you, you're such a great mate, you know," He throws an arm around her. Hermione looks to Hannah, who shrugs but looks amused.

"Did y'know, Hannah, darl-ng, that Hermione here was my first friend. Al-always sticking up for me! You're the best." He says, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Although she blushes under his praise, Hermione is glad when Neville returns to Hannah, slipping an arm around her waist and drawing her close. "Thank you, Neville, you're the best, too. Your wedding is the best ever!"

"It is, isn't it?" Hannah says, thrilled. Hermione is struck by how sober she seems and wonders about Parvati's comment.

"Are you really dating Dennis Creevey?" Neville asks, wincing.

Hermione sighs, "All of you be nicer to him! Remember he lost his brother in the war. He's not the same kid he was." She decides not to mention that he brought a camera and has been snapping away the last couple of hours. Hermione isn't sure she will ever want to see those pictures.

Neville waves her off, "Sorry, sorry. Always thought it'd be you n'Harry, y'know," He slurs towards the end, sipping his drink.

"You mean Ron and I," Hermione says, letting out a nervous laugh.

He scoffs, "No, I-"

"Okay, enough you, let's go dance! Your Grandmother will be disappointed if we don't spend more time using those dance lessons." Hannah pushes her husband towards the dancefloor but throws an apologetic glance back at Hermione. "Talk later, Hermione. Hope you're enjoying!"

Annoyance flares in her as she repeats the conversation in her head, the drink fuelling it, but she makes every attempt to stamp out the feeling. Hermione spots some of her friends chatting over at the other end of the bar and decides to join them. With a glance around, she sees Luna and Dennis chatting closely at their table, but Ginny and Katie are absent.

Ron instantly hands her a drink that smells putrid, but Hermione takes it nonetheless. In his other hand, to Hermione's chagrin, is a smoke. It's Ron, Harry, Daphne and Dean chatting in a circle. She quickly picks up on the fact that Dean is complaining about dating.

"You say one wrong thing and that's it! Done!"

Ron nods, and blows out a puff of smoke before speaking, "Absolutely, mate. And don't get me started on having to always approach first-"

"Luna approached you," Hermione corrects, confused by his blatant lie.

"I've dated other people!"

Harry grins, "Why do you have no date tonight then?"

"Well - well the thing is.." Ron stumbles, his face turning red. He scowls at Harry, and the golden trio know that this is payback for the Daphne comments. Before she can try and cool the situation, Ron blurts out, "I'm dating a muggle!"

This time, when she automatically seeks out Harry's reaction, he is already looking at her. They're both speechless for a minute, everyone is, but then Harry claps a hand on his back, "Really, mate? That's great,"

Even with the cigarette dangling from his fingers, Ron looks goofy when he responds, "Yeah, she's real nice. Stunning, too. You - you may have seen her at the club after Percy's wedding." He's scratching the back of his head now, feeling embarrassed, but Hermione can't recall any woman it could have been.

She is still reeling from the initial news, "How on earth have _you_ kept magic from her? You didn't even know how to act around my parents - who know about magic!"

"I don't know, it just doesn't matter. I tell stories and replace magic with other stuff. It's tough, don't get me wrong, and I want to tell her soon but I have to be _sure_ you know."

"Make sure you're certain, Ron, because it's her mind that gets messed with if you breakup."

Ron huffs, "Fuck, Hermione, I know."

"So, a muggle? That must be very strange," Daphne says. The hairs on Hermione's neck stand up, her every nerve alive, waiting for the disgust. The disgust doesn't come. "It must be almost like dealing with a child? I mean you're so much more powerful and know about this whole world that she's completely ignorant to. It's not uncomfortable?"

Unable to stop herself, Hermione immediately hisses, "There's a whole world purebloods don't know about either, Daphne. When's the last time you used a telephone?"

The other woman blinks, falters, and then says, "A - a what?"

Hermione drains the rest of her drink, "I'm going to the toilet."

The bathroom is in the huge manor, about a five minute walk, giving Hemione the appropriate amount of time to cool down. This is typical. It's absolutely typical, and actually downright boring in its predictability - _of course_ the pureblood is ignorant. Of course she's ignorant and condescending. Like dealing with a child? Hermione snorts, she would like to see Daphne survive ten minutes in the muggle world. She doesn't know the first thing about the place, and deigns to be condescending towards muggles?

The unvarnished truth to that is people like Daphne wouldn't see Hermione's parents and think they're intelligent, accomplished, good people. She'll see cute, powerless, stupid non-magical humans. It hurts to think of people acting so patronising, so superior to her parents.

Sure, it's not Draco Malfoy calling them scum, dirty - calling her a mudblood. It's a different kind of prejudice, but it hurts.

Hermione is nearing the toilets when she starts to hear someone calling her name. "Go away, Harry, give me a minute!"

He catches up to her, pulling her arm back. They're near the greenhouse, the colour and light from it in the dark night casting a glow on Harry's back. Hermione chooses to look at the colourful light filtering through the glass instead of Harry's face. She wonders why there has to be lights on in the greenhouse. They're not very bright, but they're present.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, you have to know that -"

"What?" She cuts in, her tone sharp, "What do I have to know? Don't you dare tell me 'she meant nothing by it, it's all fine, she's a good person'. I don't want to know, Harry. _I don't care._ People like that will never be someone I want to be around, and that's the truth of it."

Harry takes a deep breath, "While I think spending time with them and teaching them is the way to do that, none of that was what I intended to say. I wanted to say I'm sorry, I know that hurt you, I would have never brought her if I realised something like that would be said." Hermione doesn't respond. She clenches her jaw to stop emotion from spilling forth. Harry steps closer, his hands come to her shoulders, and he repeats gently, in a whisper, "I'm sorry."

Hermione finally nods, and accepts when he pulls her into a hug. Her arms wrap around his waist, holding him close as she fights against the desire to inhale his smell. Harry sways them, slow and soothing, and it's this dance that reminds her of a tent, of dissolving dreams and cracked friendships. Hermione refuses to wallow in this and pulls away.

To her relief, she hasn't shed any tears. She would hate to cry over such nonchalant, ridiculous words.

He's still watching her closely, and brings the back of his hand to softly brush against her cheek, "So you're okay?"

"Yes," She's growing uncomfortable, Hermione knows her feelings are only hurt in the end when they toe this line. She crosses her arms and grips her elbows to distract her own hands, "Why did you invite her anyway, Harry? You had to know she wouldn't fit in."

Abruptly, his hand drops and he takes a step back, "We've gotten friendly in work. We _all_ decided to make more of an effort dating and, fuck, Hermione - you invited Dennis Creevey!"

"Don't be mean about him," Hermione snaps, tired of defending the sweet and lovely guy.

Harry's eyes narrow at this, "I'm never mean to him, I tolerate him plenty enough. You know -" He lets out a little laugh, but it mostly comes out as an exhale through his nose, "You know, part of me thinks you brought him just to annoy and distract me. You knew I had a date so you-"

" _Excuse me?_ " Hermione cries, "My god, Harry Potter, your head has gotten so big I don't know how you stand straight anymore. I invited him as my friend because I _like_ him. What is wrong with you?"

"'As friends', he very clearly fancies you, and you can try and pretend all you want but -"

Hermione, dumbstruck, speaks before she can stop herself, "Are you - are you _jealous_?"

"What? No. What? Of course I'm not… I'm _not.._ " He trails off, his eyes widening and he turns to the side, looking out at the party to their right still ongoing. Harry runs a hand through his hair, leaving it even more errant in its wake, and spins back to her, "What if I was jealous?"

"You're drunk." She responds flatly, moving to push past him.

Harry grabs her hand, "We're both drunk and jealous. Tell me right now if I'm wrong."

She bites her lip, heart thudding in her ears, as she tries to piece together her feelings of the day. Jealousy is an ugly emotion, Hermione doesn't think it's healthy, she doesn't like it but when she considers what she has been acting like, what she has been _feeling_ for the day, Hermione doesn't really have any other answer than to look back into Harry's eyes and say quietly, "I guess I can't."

Harry's movements are quick at those words, pulling her to him and crashing his lips to hers. They're tentative at first, worried one of them is going to pull away, but gradually it grows more heated as they forget their surroundings. His hands roam her back, pulling her flush against him, while she runs her fingers across his broad chest, then grips his shoulders, feeling the muscles there. A loud spike of laughter causes Hermione to pull back, mumbling, "someone will see" half-heartedly. Harry's breath is laboured, his lips a deeper red than usual. He doesn't respond, only pushes them close together again but begins to walk backward as they kiss and she's dimly aware that they're heading towards the greenhouse.

He's so good at kissing. How have they not tried this a million times before? Hermione's heart is racing, her hands a frenzy as she tries to touch every piece of him she can reach. He does the same, and he keeps pressing them close, his hand firm on her lower back and increasing the heat Hermione is feeling building in her.

Without warning, just outside the greenhouse, Harry ventures and goes lower, grabbing her bum and lifting her. Hermione lets out a sound of surprise, but wraps her legs around him. She never lets men lift her, has never left any man do that, but this is Harry and she trusts him more than herself. The only sounds she can hear is their breaths, their kisses, and the only thing she can feel is Harry, invading every single one of her senses and leaving her robbed of any consideration for the outside world.

"One second," he breathes, breaking the kiss so he can find the door handle. Hermione kisses and nips his ear and neck, until Harry says, "god, Hermione, how am I supposed to find the handle when you're distracting me like that."

She lets out a throaty chuckle that is so unlike her, and it's immediately cut off by Harry's return to her lips. He bites her lip, she rakes her nails along his shoulders in response, and finally he finds the door handle.

They fall into the room, letting out similar sounds of laughter, the sound bubbling up and out of Hermione before she can stop it. Something moves in the room and, as if of one mind, Hermione and Harry both jump away from each other, scalded.

She notices now there are two people entwined on one of the benches, and Hermione realises it's Katie Bell sitting on the bench with none other than Ginny Weasley straddling her. Their snogging is so heated that they haven't even noticed Harry and Hermione.

Hermione intends to creep back out without a sound, return to the party and mention this some other time. As she turns, the door to the greenhouse slams shut. Not unlike she and Harry, Ginny and Katie spring apart, lingering on opposite ends of the benches. Ginny whirls around and her eyes widen, "Harry! Hermione! I - well - what.."

She appears genuinely lost for words. Hermione thinks the best thing to do is play this off as nothing - because it is, and also because Katie still hasn't turned around - so she waves her hand, "Go for it, Gin! Enjoy, you'll have to tell me all about it later. I was just going to examine some of the magic Neville and Hannah used in here, you know to see could I learn anything, you know what I'm like, just can't help myself with the need to know everything, but we can ask him ourselves, you carry on and we'll discuss tomorrow. We'll go back to the party and well.. We'll find Ron and - and dance. Yes, we'll dance."

Hermione can see Ginny's expression grow suspicious as she speaks, her eyes flickering between her and Harry, who stands dumbly beside her. She can see the girl putting the pieces together but still Hermione can't stop the word vomit.

At last, Harry pulls her towards the door and wiggles his eyebrows at Ginny as he leaves, " _Have fun,_ Gin."

The door to the greenhouse closes behind them, the sound seeming much quieter now it isn't vital to be silent. The music is still loud from the party in the distance, and it looks like almost everyone is dancing save for a few scattered at the tables.

Hermione doesn't feel equipped to deal with any of this right now. She's drunk, emotional, tired. That usually means it's time to go home. Before she can voice this thought, Harry says, shocked, "That's mad, isn't it? Ginny and Katie?"

She shrugs, "Yes, but whatever makes Ginny happy I'm supportive of."

"Absolutely." He responds without hesitation, then he looks at her. "We should - we should probably fix ourselves. Your hair and makeup is a bit.."

Hermione nods, "Your robes are a bit askew.." Their heat is gone, the overwhelming sensation of need has evaporated, leaving them alone in the stilted aftermath of their decisions. After all those years resisting temptation, Hermione can't believe they crossed the line. She struggles to even look at him.

"Look, we can forget about it. Pretend it didn't happen. You seem very uncomfortable."

"Of course I'm _uncomfortable,"_ Hermione replies, incredulous, "We could have destroyed our friendship. It took ages for Ron and I to recover from our stint."

"Only took you a couple of months," Harry retorts. He throws his arms in the air, adding, "And it was a kiss, not like we're suddenly dating and everything's ruined."

Hermione gulps. She swallows the sting of that statement. Hermione is envious of his love life if it's peppered with kisses like _that._ When she snogs a man, she's not utterly consumed by the need to be as close as possible to him. She's not lost to everything going on around her, focused only on him. Hermione's never hot and bothered after just a kiss.

She clears her throat, sees he's watching her expectantly, "No, you're right. That's exactly it."

"That's my Hermione!" He says, smiling, and throws an arm around her, "Logical to a fault! Best mates?"

She doesn't know why she wants to cry. Hermione doesn't want to think about why there's a tsunami of emotions rising in her, pulling back and back while in front of Harry, but that only means the force when it hits is even worse.

"Best mates," Her voice sounds odd even to her. "I have to run to the loo to fix myself. I'll see you in a bit."

When Hermione returns twenty minutes later, with no trace of makeup on her face, she has no problem lying and telling Harry and her friends that it was irritating her skin after so many hours.

What would be the point in the truth - the inexplicable sobbing - when she doesn't understand herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So we finally see some action between our favourite couple.
> 
> Thanks so, so much to everyone who is following and reviewing. 
> 
> I'll probably wait a couple of days before the next chapter. Let me know what you think if you feel up to it!
> 
> CR.


	5. George & Angelina

"I didn't imagine it would be quite so - so -"

"Painful? Annoying?" Ginny offers lightly.

Ron pops his head in the door and says, "Exhausting? Deadly?" before moving onto the next room.

" _Chaotic,"_ Hermione finishes, but her friends words bring a smile to her face. She had thought a wedding at the Burrow sounded quiet, no-fuss, relaxed. Hermione obviously had conveniently forgotten about the summer of sixth year. Bill and Fleur's wedding preparations had been hectic. With the extra hands today, and Molly not trying to keep the trio apart, it feels less labour intensive but when there are more people and several children running out, everything feels decidedly busier.

Hermione and Ginny are scrubbing the floors around the corners of the rooms, where Molly insists magic just doesn't do a thorough enough job. It keeps them distracted and busy, as well as giving them a minute to talk. Since Neville's wedding, Hermione has only seen Ginny once at brunch to say goodbye before she travelled again with her quidditch team. She's only home for the weekend.

Hermione glances around, ensuring no one is listening, and says conversationally, "So.. Katie will probably be here today.."

Ginny freezes, sits back on her knees and eyes Hermione, "That was… that was nothing. Honestly."

"Ginny," Hermione leans forward, grasping her hand. She ignores the dirt coating both of them. "You know you can talk to me about anything. If it was just a once-off excitement, no problem. If it's something you want to talk about, no problem."

Pause. Ginny nods. They return to scrubbing. The sound of Molly shouting instructions to people echoes around them, causing both of them to laugh. "Poor Fleur, we were so mean to her when she was dealing with all of that."

"We were teenagers, most people have bad judgement as teens."

"Hermione, I -" She falters, pressing her eyes into the clean patch of skin under her wrist. Inhaling deeply, she turns to meet her eyes, "Hermione, I think I'm gay."

She sees the glistening in Ginny's eyes and drops her sponge, rushing over, taking a moment to cast a 'scourgify' to clean her hands. Hermione gently wipes the tears from Ginny's cheeks, but they rise again, a fresh batch as her lip wobbles to restrain her cries.

Hermione frowns. Grabbing the woman by the hand, she drags her up to their old bedroom, locking the door. Ginny sits on her bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. Hermione rubs her back, "It's okay, Ginny. It's a great thing, you should love whoever you want, it doesn't matter if it's a man or woman."

"My - my Mum.. She'll be - she'll be devastated," Ginny says, despite the tears drying, her voice wobbles, and the sight is so unsettling to Hermione. Ginny rarely allows herself to get upset or show vulnerability. "She… she'll be so disappointed."

Hermione slowly takes Ginny into her arms, holding her close until her tears subside, "Your Mum will be shocked, but then she'll be happy for you, Gin. How long have you been holding this in?"

She moves back, sniffing, "I mean, obviously always, but I've only allowed myself to start thinking about it in the last year. I kept wondering - what is wrong with me? All these great blokes and I'm not feeling anything. In school, no boy really did it for me, but I assumed I was waiting for Harry and then Harry… when he was chasing me, jealous, that was a real thrill. I had the boy-who-lived chasing _me._ That's why I tried to create it at Percy's wedding. An act of desperation. But, you know.. I just.. Kissing Katie was.."

Ginny flushes and Hermione grins, "Oh, Ginny, I'm so glad you did. Let yourself enjoy life, whatever that may mean."

"It was so _good,_ Hermione. I felt giddy the next day. Giddy! Everything clicked and I don't know if that's her, or girls, or what it is but.. It felt.."

"Natural?"

Ginny clicks her fingers, "Natural."

"I'm happy for you, Gin, that's great news. You know you could tell your friends, ease into it before telling your parents."

She nods, "I know, I think I probably will do something lik-"

"Ginny Weasley! Hermione Granger! If you're gabbing in there, you better be nearly ready!"

The women look down at their dirty, old clothing and adopt expressions of panic. "Shit."

* * *

When Hermione arrives downstairs, Ginny having gone ahead, there is absolute silence. The wedding is in the garden, but it's still eerie to hear an absence of noise in the burrow. It's abnormal, this house is supposed to be eternally bursting with life.

She spots Harry in the doorway to the garden looking anxious and Hermione buries any nerves she may have. They've lived together seamlessly since Neville's wedding; there's no reason this wedding should be any different. The ability to suppress emotions and pretend everything is normal is, fortunately, a skill they both possess. Part of Hermione has to admit it frustrates her - that he can be so perfectly _the same._ It forces her to accept that the kiss didn't mean anything. People kiss all the time, especially while drunk, and it wasn't the first time either of them have drunkenly kissed someone.

The problem is her dreams, where she can't escape the memory of dark green eyes and frantic hands, and her heart, which has taken to erratic jumps at his touch. At the same time, Hermione has come to crave his touch, finding little ways to initiate it, and greed is the only word to describe her desire for his eyes on her. Merlin, she really needs a proper date and a shag. That's the real issue.

Once again, she promises herself to try dating more seriously. For now, she has to enjoy a day of celebration with the Weasleys, people who mean family to her in every sense.

Hermione touches Harry's elbow, startling him, "Woah, are you okay?" She glances outside and sees everyone is already sitting.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, "No. George is having some sort of panic attack, Ron is in there trying to calm him down. It's - it's.."

"Fred," Hermione says softly, her heart breaking for the twin that lives on.

"It seems so unfair, doesn't it? You spend so much time to heal, to get past it, and _still_ on the happiest days of your life.. It just doesn't seem right."

Hermione keeps her hand on his elbow, hoping it's reassuring, "It's not fair, but at least we get to have these days. We can't forget that all of this," She turns in a circle, gesturing outward, "All of this was nearly out of our grasp."

Harry nods, but it has no enthusiasm. There's a bang of a door and Ron comes striding towards them, his skin a stark white and his hands grabbing fistfuls of hair, "Fuck, I think I have to get Angelina."

"What about your Mum?" Hermione offers, eager to find any other solution. No one wants to retrieve the bride from her wedding day bliss with news of her husbands panic. That's not nice to hear on the day to seal your love.

Ron shakes his head, "Mum will only stress him further. I think I have to get Angelina. You two go sit down.. Hopefully we'll be out soon."

Hermione and Harry, saddened by their inability to help further, obey Ron's word and begin the slow trek to their seats. George's wedding is very simple, the chairs are charmed to alternate different colours, but otherwise it's setup quite like Bill and Fleurs. There's definitely more splashes of colour though.

Hermione and Harry take seats next to each other in the second row. For some baffling reason, Harry rests his arm behind her as he leans back to watch the Burrow for signs of any Weasleys. It feels too intimate, close to familiar, and it takes several breaths for Hermione to forget about it. After five minutes, Ron comes out and runs to the top of the aisle, greeting everyone on his way there. Ron is George's best man, and stands proudly in his spot.

Next is their daughter, Roxanne - more commonly known as Roxie - who skips up the middle of the rows, throwing flowers out with abandon. She runs to Ron then, standing in front of him and leaning back against his legs. He bends down to say something to her, probably applauding her great job, and she smiles and nods.

It's another fifteen minutes when George and Angelina make their way down the aisle. As far as Hermione knows, Angelina had planned on the traditional route of her father walking her down the aisle. This has changed. She and George walk closely, a bouquet in her right hand, her left clutching George's hand tightly. They flash everyone smiles, but the crowd is sober, as if everyone is aware of what happened. Hermione's sure that's not the case.

They reach the top of the aisle, and George cracks a joke about handing Angelina over to himself. Instantly, there's a vibration of laughter among everyone, a release of tension once the reassurance that George is okay is given.

Hermione will learn much later about how Angelina did breathing exercises with George that are very familiar to both of them. She'll hear about how they both shared earnest expressions about Fred, a mutual feeling of 'we wish he was here' before determining that he would be there in all but body.

Looking at them, smiling radiantly at each other, Hermione would never have guessed they had gone through all that if Ron hadn't mentioned George's panic attack. Angelina is teasing him about his wandwork, George is making jokes about her desire for him being the cause for delay. Their natural synchronicity covers over any bumps in the road that occurred. Hermione feels peaceful knowing that George will be happy with Angelina, even if he no longer has Fred. No one can replace him or change those facts, but now there's a new part of his life he can build. One that he didn't build with Fred, one where the man doesn't linger in every facet.

Hermione doesn't know if she can listen to George speak. There's too much there, there's so much history and she's _tired._ Hermione doesn't want to talk about the war, or how they're finally healing, or even about how much people are missed. She is about to proverbially stick her fingers in her ears when Harry's arm drops to her shoulders, pulling her in.

It's both the kick and the strength she needs.

George grins, "It's silly, isn't it? Thinking about your twin brother on your wedding day to the most beautiful woman on earth. It's _barmy,"_ He exclaims, rocking back on his heels with it, "Fred would give me a clatter upside the back of my head and tell me to cop on. He'd be right. Sometimes though.. Sometimes, it's the important days that are the hardest, because his presence - his _lack of_ presence - is that much more noticeable.

"Everyone pictures birthdays, weddings, births, with their family alongside them. I pictured the day Fred and I would spike the butterbeer at our own wedding. We would shoot off fireworks at inopportune times while riding brooms into the air, like when we mitched off school. Maybe one of us would try say something emotional but it would _never_ come off sincere. And anyway. That's gone. But, listen, that dream died a long time ago now.

"My dreams now involve something very different. Thankfully, because Fred was the ugly one, after all," George grins broadly now to the strong laughter, "Angelina, you're the woman of my dreams, a woman of immense patience, but also fun. No one else could be the friend you were to the Weasley twins. No other woman could be my wife. You just _get_ me. It's as simple as that. You make me laugh, I'm not always the one doing the legwork there. You're like me in all the right ways, and different in all the ways that matter. We've created a family that has made me happier than I ever thought could be possible after the war. Our daughter is the best of both of us, I'm so bloody lucky and proud to have you two. I love you and would love it if you'd stick around for.. Well, forever."

Angelina is beaming at him, her expression one of adoration that Hermione now so frequently sees amongst wedding couples, "George, that was beautiful. I'm not one for words or speeches, but I want you to know that you're the strongest, funniest, _most handsome_ man I've ever met. I love you more everyday and you make everything in life a fun, thrilling adventure. Lets get married already!"

Harry removes his arm as everyone stands to clap. Hermione even lets out a high-pitched 'woo' in support of the pair. Harry looks at her in surprise and she shrugs, causing both of them to dissolve into laughter.

She's glad everything is normal between them. Hermione had been worried in the leadup to the wedding that something would be off. It was a silly worry, because they live together. If they can act normally for the last three months, then why would now be any different?

Part of her knows the difference is in the way he places his hand on her back to guide her out of the row; the slow stride he adopts so she can walk beside him in heels; and, mostly, it's the gazes that linger too long, the stares she catches when he thinks she isn't looking. Everyone is lonely at weddings, right?

When Hermione finds Ron, he's puffing a cigarette like a train pulling away from the station. "Nasty habit," she says casually, leaning beside him at the fence. He's looking out at the apparition spot, where his new girlfriend will soon arrive with Ginny. Ron had been too busy to travel with his girlfriend, but his sister had volunteered immediately. Hermione has no doubt that Ginny is slagging Ron something awful to the poor woman.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to give up in the new year."

Taken back, Hermione says, "You're giving up?"

"Yeah, well, Jess hates them," His voice is rough, begrudging, but it doesn't dissuade Hermione's cackle.

"Oh, I love Jess. I really do. She can make you do anything!"

Ron rolls his eyes, "She doesn't _nag_ me into submission, maybe that's why."

"People only _'nag'_ when other people are being thick."

"Oh is that so? Well, maybe _some people_ -"

"Look! There she is!" Ron's head whips around, the cigarette flying out of his hand and onto the ground. Hermione can't help the roar of laughter at his reaction, and she leans forward with the force of it. "You - you threw the smoke like.. Oh, god, so funny.. You - eyes _frantic_ trying to find where she is.."

His mouth eventually gives way to a smile, "Okay, you got me that time."

Hermione lets out a satisfied sigh, wiping away tears, "I got you good."

They sit in silence for a few minutes until Ron breaks it, "Did you see Hannah last week? She's huge! Is she having twins?"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione scowls, punching him in the shoulder with no force, "She's pregnant, you idiot."

"She's huge for five months," Ron says, as if he is the oracle of pregnancy and women. Hermione has to wonder at where the confidence is coming from. He has had quite limited contact with pregnant women to Hermione's knowledge - and no surprise if this is his attitude. Out of the blue, there's a swing in conversation, as Ron pokes her, "What's going on with you and Harry, anyway?"

She tries not to choke on air, "Me and - and - me and Harry?"

"Me and - and - and," Ron mimics, unflatteringly, "You and Harry. What is going on? You're acting strangely lately. Like there's tension."

Hermione thought they had been effortless in returning to normal. In truth, she thought it _looked_ effortless, but it required a lot of effort. If there's any tension, it's the unresolved sexual kind and not the 'I-cant-stop-thinking-about-you-need-some-distance' kind.

"No tension," Hermione responds, but notices herself that her voice is a pitch higher than normal.

Ron looks at her, "Riiiight. If you two are shagging behind my back or something, let me make it a bit easier at least: I'm moving in with Jess next week. Place in London. I'll keep paying my share until you find a replacement."

Stunned, Hermione only finds the words to say, "I'm sure that won't be necessary.. You're moving in together? Already?"

"We're pretty sure," Ron says simply with a shrug.

"How?" Hermione blurts out and curses herself. At his look of askance, she adds, "How do you know? How are you so sure?"

"I dunno'. I feel my best when I'm with her, want to be around her all the time.. It's also just easier if we don't have to be packing shit to sleepover, you know? Feels a bit useless."

Hermione nods. She feels him straighten beside her and pats his shoulder, knowing Jess has arrived, "I'll let you have your reunion and say hello later."

Ron doesn't respond, he's already jumping over the fence and racing towards her. Hermione smiles as he plucks her up in an enthusiastic hug, her feet swinging off the ground. The echoes of their laughter reach Hermione, but she retreats back to the party before they notice her presence.

She should feel more negativity towards Ron's new relationship, but doesn't. Yes, there is a small amount of envy, a large amount of shock, but overall Hermione is genuinely pleased Ron has met someone lovely. She and Harry have met Jess many times, and each time she's charming.

Hermione pauses and looks around, wondering who she could go speak with. George and Angelina are making the rounds, currently sitting with her parents. Angelina is stunning in her deep red robes and gold jewellery. Mr and Mrs Weasley are chatting with Kingsley and Andromeda. Hermione wonders if there's something going on there.

There are Hogwarts professors at another table, engaging with some old students, Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood. Probably quidditch.

Hermione finally spots Harry in the corner, close to the Burrow door, on his hunkers with Teddy. Andromeda has been away with Teddy the last few weeks, she hasn't seen him in months. She immediately makes her way towards them. Harry glances up and sees her, pointing her figure out to Teddy. As soon as he sees her, Teddy rushes to her, almost knocking them both over, "Hermione!"

"Teddy, it's so good to see you," Hermione responds, injecting the same amount of animation into her tone. His hair is a shock of blue, somehow looking adorable with his navy robes and brown eyes.

He takes her hand, leading her back to where Harry is now sitting on the grass, "I told Harry that I saw a tiger, Hermione! He was like Crookshanks but huge bigger than me and you put together but he was trapped in a zoo which made me sad. Granny says that he likes it there but I thought he looked sad and I wouldn't like to live in a cage but we did get ice cream after, I got the chocolate flavour. What's your _favourite_ flavour?"

Hermione glances to Harry, who nods to indicate 'yes, I have just heard the exact same story' before smiling at Teddy, "Hmm, that's a tough question. Probably raspberry."

"Raspberry? That's boring." He says matter-of-factly, and she can hear Harry smother a laugh.

He takes on a parental role after and says, "Teddy, that's not nice to say, apologise to Hermione."

Looking contrite, he apologises and gives her a hug. It takes only a few seconds for him to brighten again, "Do you wanna' see what me and Harry can do?"

"It's Harry and I, Teddy."

He frowns in confusion, "No, it's _me_ and Harry. You can play with Harry after if you want."

Hermione throws some grass at Harry, who is struggling to hold in his laughter again. "I'd love to see your trick, Teddy."

A new expression of determination sets on Teddy's face, his eyes narrowed, mouth set, as he takes several large paces back. Harry takes off his shoes and nods at the boy, who sets off in a run. Hermione sends a quizzical look to Harry, but he's focused on Teddy. In a swift move, Teddy throws himself in the air and Harry catches him on his feet, sweeping him into the air and holding his hands to maintain balance. "Look, Hermione! Are you looking?"

Hermione laughs, "That's amazing, Teddy! It looks super fun. Are you okay?"

He's giggling too much to respond, Harry is busy flying him around in circles on his feet. After a few more seconds, he places Teddy back down, both of them flushed and grinning. Teddy punches the air, "That was wicked!"

"We're getting better at the balance," Harry says, eyes flicking over to Hermione. "How impressed are you?"

She tilts her head, if to ask 'really?' and instead asks, "Where did you learn that? My Dad used to do it with me but…" She trails off, and the rueful look Harry gives her floods her with guilt.

"No, the Dursleys definitely didn't partake in anything like that." He turns to Teddy, brightening, "Your Granny told us about it, didn't she? Grandad Ted used to do it with your Mum."

Teddy nods rapidly, "Yes! She was _almost_ as good as me, Granny says."

"You have the grace of a dancer, Teddy," Hermione says, and holds out her hand, "Do you want to have a dance?"

He grabs her hand, "I can show you my moves, George showed me a really cool one called the chicken dance that Muggles really like and it's so funny but I don't know why it's called a chicken dance because chickens don't move their legs, I even checked the chickens here but I still don't understand. Do you know that dance, Hermione?"

Hermione leads him towards the dancefloor, waving goodbye to Harry, "I haven't seen it in a long time, you'll have to show me again."

Not missing a beat, the boy rambles on, "Want to hear something? I learned a song when we were on holidays and I told Tori and she knew it too so we're going to sing it later but I can sing some for you now, do you want to hear it?"

"Of course I do!" They've reached the dancefloor now, and Hermione spins Teddy as she listens to him sing a wobbly, but extremely confident, version of _Frère Jacques._ It's a lovely moment of nostalgia for her and brings Hermione back to being the overbearing, eager child who sang it with great gusto while correcting everyone else's pronunciation. Thankfully, she has learned a thing or two and does not interrupt Teddy to tell him that it isn't 'feraray' jacques.

"That's _my_ song," A voice interrupts, and Victoire Weasley is now standing beside them with ire on her face. Harry is holding her hand, and Hermione can only assume she dragged him up to dance with them. Teddy and Victoire have an infamously tumultuous relationship: enemies or best friends, depending on the luck of the day.

Seeing them about to veer into enemy territory, Hermione makes a gesture to Harry to do something. He mouths back 'do what?' and she sighs, "Everyone loves that song, Tori, don't be silly. We were just having a dance, do you and Teddy want to dance instead?"

The little girl looks to be contemplating that, her strawberry blonde hair falling into her face as she tilts her head down. Teddy scoffs, "I'm a much better dancer."

"Are not!"

"Are too."

Harry, exasperated, "Why don't you both dance to this song and see who is better. Teddy, you have that new chicken move to show Tori and Tori, you can spin for ages. Go on, now. Hermione and I are going to get something to drink."

"Shouldn't we wait and see if things cool down between them.." Hermione asks, trailing off as Harry places a hand on her back and guides them away.

He shakes his head, "No way, the last time I played referee between them I ended up covered in chocolate."

"I told you baking with them was asking for trouble."

"Yes, yes, I should absolutely run all my decisions by you but I don't always have three business days to wait for your response."

They take seats at a nearby table and pour out glasses of wine, but Hermione wants to protest his point, "I can make quick decisions!"

He grins, "Yes, and _that's_ why you're not allowed to play 'marry, shag, kill' anymore."

She opens her mouth to protest this, but is interrupted by the arrival of Ron, Jess, Charlie and Ginny. They all take seats around them and Hermione gives Jess a friendly smile, hoping to put her at ease. Although she has now seen magic many times, so that part is not new, it's her first time being surrounded by all of Ron's family. The Weasleys are chaotic at the best of times, never mind at a wedding; it must be overwhelming.

"Did I hear something about marry, shag, kill?" Ron asks before taking a sip from his firewhiskey.

"Great game," Charlie adds, sinking back against his chair in a pose that is so effortlessly cool, Hermione feels jealous for a moment.

"It's good fun, but Hermione here is banned," Harry jabs a thumb in her direction, "Takes too long to make a decision and asks too many follow up questions."

"Follow up questions?" Jess asks, frowning.

Ginny answers now, but her eyes are roaming across the room, "Yes, with Hermione it's always like 'ok but Draco Malfoy before or after community service?' or 'is it young Dumbledore or when he died age?'"

"All important clarifications!"

"Ah, the motley crew, back at the drinks!" George and Angelina arrive at their table in high spirits, both holding glasses and covered in glitter. One of George's pranks, Hermione thinks. Charlie pats him in the shoulder as he passes by, leaving to speak to someone at the next table over.

Ron shrugs, "How else am I supposed to get through your wedding?"

"Ooh, Ronnie," George clutches his chest, "You wound me, you really do. But, worst of all, how could you wound Angie like this? Downright rude."

Angelina nudges him, "Stop you, Ron's face will be the colour of my robes in a minute." Ron sticks out his tongue at her in response, and Hermione looks to Jess with interest. The woman is sitting with a smile on her face, her hand resting on her palm as she gazes between the bride and her date. Looking at her, Hermione wonders if she might be a better match for Charlie, so chilled and completely cool. Her dark skin is smooth and appealing against the amber colour of her robes, while her afro is healthy and vibrant, the varying shades of brown only broken up by a pair of golden hoops in her ears.

She seems calm amid the storm here, which Hermione likes. It would be good to have a little more balance in that aspect of the Burrow.

Angelina picks some glitter out of her drink, "I think glitter bombs could have been used more effectively.. Maybe on the guests instead of us, hmm?"

George nods, "Maybe. Can't let them have all the fun though! C'mon, we should go show Roxie and the other kids, they'd love it." With a familiar but unwelcome gleam in his eye, he turns to Jess, "Jess, why don't you come along? I'd love for you to meet our troublemaker."

Ron starts to protest instantly, but Jess puts a hand on his arm and he stops, "That sounds great." If she isn't being genuine, Hermione will never know, her expression and words appear that sincere. She _must_ know she's probably going to end up covered in glitter. Jess leaves with the newlyweds, listening to George list off the Weasley grandchildren with some input from Angelina.

"Merlin, Ron, I _love_ her. How did you manage that? It's honestly a phenomenon how many amazing women date you."

"Sod off, Ginny." Ron says on instinct, then sighs in a wistful way, "But I know, she is way out of my league. I'll have to put a ring on her finger to seal the deal, eh?"

Hermione's mouth falls open and she hears Harry choke on his drink beside her. She pats his back absently, eyes still on Ron, "A - a ring?"

" _You?"_ Harry says, failing to be more eloquent than Hermione.

Ginny, the last hope for a good response, snorts, "Only hope you have of getting married is if you knock her up."

"'Oh amazing, Ron, we're so happy for you, that's a great idea,'" Ron says in a mimic of their voices, "That's what _good_ mates say, you lot are rubbish, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, you're right. It's amazing you're thinking like that it's just - it's surprising, you know?"

Hopping onto Hermione's apology, Harry nods and adds with enthusiasm, " _So_ surprising! I mean, Christ Ron, you called yourself the ultimate bachelor for a while. It's a bit shocking."

"Remember you went through a period of calling yourself 'the rockstar' because you were, and I quote, 'rocking so many witches worlds' ?" Ginny titters.

Ron cringes, "Ok, so I went a bit overboard at one point. I'm a changed man! I'd be mental not to want to be with her forever."

Hermione exclaims, "But you've only been together about nine months!"

"Ah, when you know, you know," His casual responses are beginning to infuriate Hermione, but before she can try to rile Ron up, Ginny questions him.

For once, she's not mocking him or teasing, " _How_ do you know? The question everyone always asks but for you what was it? I mean - you dated Hermione, Luna, amazing women, what's different?"

Ron falls quiet for a minute, mulling this over. Hermione and Harry share a look of interest before returning to their study of Ron. It's foreign to see him so at ease with commitment. Ron always says he wants a big family, but had been emphatic about waiting till his 30s to find someone to do that with. Hermione had long assumed she and Harry would marry before him.

That is - _separately._ Not each other. Hermione inwardly wilts at her thoughts, willing herself to stop mixing up her emotions for her best friend.

"Like I told Hermione earlier, she just gets me. She makes me feel good, you know? I want to make her feel good. And, no, you bastards, I'm not talking about sex.. Although the sex is bloody brilliant, too."

" _Ron,"_ Hermione whispers warningly while Ginny grimaces.

He ignores her admonishment, "There's no one I would rather be around. Her presence makes me calm, I don't need anyone else's approval when I have hers. I don't know, I guess, at the end of the day, I want to spend all of my time with her and I don't - I don't ever really get sick of it. Mental, right? Remember me and you, Hermione? We'd take regular breaks, openly saying how sick of each other we were." He takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head, "Can you believe now we thought that was normal?"

Hermione's heart is racing a bit, her mind barely focused on the words Ron is saying but she finds the ability to say, "Deluded," in response. The problem she's having is the person sitting directly to her right, so close that she can smell his aftershave and feel his movement.

The man whose name came to her mind the moment Ron started speaking. She's starting to feel the heat creep up the back of her neck, her stomach churning with anxiety and Hermione quickly excuses herself from her friends conversation. She feels Harry look at her in question, but she doesn't dare glance back at him. Hermione moves away, taking large strides, her head swimming.

How could she have been so _blind?_ So - so _stupid?_ Only when it comes to Harry has Hermione ever really been stupid. Maybe Ron on the odd occasion, but that's because he's a tactless moron at times, not because she can't think straight.

She's been so _deluded._ Hermione continues to berate herself. Why did she think it was normal to want to spend every minute with him? Moments and feelings flash through her mind, impulses she blamed on loneliness, friendship, drink, or a dozen other things. Why did she not wonder why she didn't want to know every, little thing about all her other friends? Why his opinion, what he thought of her, mattered more than everyone else - even her own parents?

 _Fuck,_ did she always assume it was normal that she felt a rush of heat when he defended her? Did she just simply choose to ignore the relief, the flood of _warmth,_ when he put his arm around her?

Basking in the glow of friendship, Hermione would happily tell herself. God, how stupid.

She wants to scream, she wants to pull her hair out or at least look in the mirror and tell herself more personally, eye to eye, how utterly and entirely thick-headed she has been.

How utterly and entirely _wrong_ she has been.

How utterly and entirely fucked she is now.

Hermione Granger is most definitely, almost wholly, in love with Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, thank you to everyone following and commenting. Reviews are v motivational.
> 
> Sorry for the angst, I realise now it's a bit more angsty than I realised, but there isn't too many chapters so I hope it doesn't drag on. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought if you feel up to it - not sure I have any other comments to make this time :)


	6. An Engagement

He feels inexplicably nervous. Harry pauses at that thought. Is it truly inexplicable? Ok, no, not entirely. He has good reason to be apprehensive of this, to fidget nervously as he waits for the door to answer. However, nervous isn't really a word he often used while waiting on Hermione Granger.

Partly, it's because they haven't spent a great deal amount of alone time together since their 'incident' - he had taken to calling it that in an effort to keep it out of his dreams, as if ignorance of the word would stop it materialising - and Hermione has cancelled the last three lunch dates when it ended up being just the two of them.

It's also partly the unknown of which grieving Hermione he's going to get. He hopes it won't be like when she lost out on that promotion to Theodore Nott, repeatedly saying she was fine with a strange and forced smile. Or - he muses with sudden dread - maybe it would be like when they went to Australia to find her parents the summer she graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione had been so angry for most of the time that Harry can remember with great clarity the seemingly everlasting tension.

At this thought, the door is abruptly wrenched open and against his better judgement, Harry forces an awkward smile, "Heeey, forgot my keys," he says, and holds up the bottle of red wine in his hand, "thought you might need one of these. "

He's cautiously optimistic - while her hair is a little wilder than usual, and there are dark circles under her eyes, he's seen her wear that dressing gown and grey, cotton pyjamas before. This seems ok.. This seems… normal. She meets his eyes, sniffs and says, "I'm _fine._ Better than fine! I'm happy for them."

Harry just looks at her, waiting for her to continue. Hermione sighs, "I'm honestly happy for them. Am I _a tiny bit_ miffed Ron is getting married before me? Sure. Do I have any lingering feelings for him? Not in the slightest. But will this wine go to waste tonight? Also no."

"Will you ever stop asking yourself questions? Also no." Harry responds with a grin, hoping to lift her spirits somewhat. Seeing her this bothered does something to his chest and all he wants to do is hold her tight and make it stop.

Given their current status, he does not do that. The fact that he can't causes a pang of sadness. He wants to regret kissing her, causing this tension between them, but Harry can't regret it. Although he does wish he could stop _seeing_ her. Why can't she go back to being simply his best friend?

He ushers them into their apartment, closing the door behind. Luna moved in to replace Ron and he glances around for her, "Where's Luna?"

"On a date with Dennis Creevey, would you believe. I'm going to get a glass, will you have one?"

She takes the bottle from his hand and smiles, "Oh, my favourite, thanks, Harry!"

He can't explain why he feels lighter at those words, but waves her off, "It was no bother." Harry pauses, walking slowly behind her. He knows they probably shouldn't sit on the couch, alone, with wine - like they used to do with such ease - but it's so tempting now. He can stop himself from saying something stupid, right? She's the most important person to him, Harry isn't going to risk that for some temporary rush of hormones. "Yeah, grab me a glass, please."

Harry takes a seat in the living room and debates turning on the TV. He knows they will want to talk though so he opts to turn on the wireless instead; they always get a kick out of the whacky wizarding songs.

Hermione returns and passes a glass to him, and then hesitates before taking her first sip. She holds her wine out towards him, "To being alone forever!"

Always happy to raise a toast, Harry laughs and clinks his glass against hers, "To freedom!"

She rolls her eyes, "I know you don't really think like that."

"Hmm, _somehow,_ I don't think you need me to tell you the merits of marriage right now." Harry watches as Hermione lets out a sorrowful sigh and rolls his eyes, "Oh come on, Hermione, you're better than that."

"I thought so, too! I really did. I thought 'I'm Hermione Granger, I can do anything' - brightest witch of her age, they said," She strikes a pose, flexing her right arm, "Great hero of the war!"

Harry can't help but laugh at this, "You can pose ridiculously all you want, those things are all true. Anyway," He continues, his voice as airy as he can make it, "you don't even want Ron."

To his surprise, Hermione only sighs, "Yes. True. But, honestly, Ron? _Ron_ is the first of us to get married? How on earth does that happen?" She lets out an incredulous laugh, " _Ronald Weasley?"_

He doesn't feel the immediate need to defend his friend. Instead, Harry joins her, "Ron 'I'm-playing-the-field-till-I'm-30' Weasley."

"Ron 'I- _twice_ -scheduled-two-dates-at-the-same-time' Weasley,"

"Ron 'life's-too-short-to-learn-a-birds-name' Weasley,"

Hermione and Harry both dissolve into peels of laughter at this, recalling Harry's utter disbelief when Ron asked _Harry_ the name of the 'bird' he slept with the night before, and the ensuing lecture from Hermione about respect.

Hermione meets his eye, her expression somewhat conflicted, and says, "I feel a bit bad now. He's a great guy, Jess is lovely, blah blah blah." She opens and closes her left hand, like a puppet, as she finishes speaking.

He smiles, "Wow, what a touching tribute that was. Write it down for my best man speech, will you?"

Hermione nudges him with her elbow, "Git. Awfully presumptuous of you, isn't it? 'Best man', he has five - shit, I mean _four,_ brothers," She closes her eyes in annoyance, "I can't believe I did that. Fred's been gone so long now. Stupid."

"Hey," Harry whispers, feeling unsure of himself, "we all do it sometimes. Took me the longest time to not automatically say 'Fred and George' when talking about George."

"I know. Doesn't feel like eight years, does it?"

Harry shakes his head, "No. There are days though - there are days when I feel like we're still back there. Hiding, hunting, plotting. You know?" To busy himself after admitting such a thing, he tops both of their glasses up.

"Of course," Hermione responds, and for some reason Harry feels relieved though he shouldn't. He should have known that Hermione would respond in kind - he can almost always rely on her to understand on some level. "But most days I'm thankful we're through the worst. Those first few years were such a blur."

He nods heartily in agreement, but continues watching, mesmerised, as he circles the wine around in its glass.

Hermione clears her throat, "I'm just.. I'm just a bit surprised, you know? With Ron's engagement, I mean. When we broke up, that was something I consoled myself with.. At least I would move on first in a permanent way, I would be happy and watch him date around England with abandon. It would be funny, endearing, everyone would be merry with the arrangement."

"To be honest, I thought I'd be married long before Ron, too. It wasn't far fetched either, I wanted it and he didn't," He pauses, thinking on this before snorting, "Merlin, for too long, I thought I'd marry Ginny!"

She allows a small smile at that, but even he can see it's laced with sympathy. Harry and Ginny's relationship ended about two months after Ron and Hermione's. They'd like to say that neither had a bearing on the other, but it seems in retrospect to be an impossible conclusion. Ron and Hermione's break-up was, to the astonishment of literally every single person, extremely amicable. It's probably the only mature thing they've decided on together.

Harry and Ginny's, however, was not so amicable. Ginny threw herself into the celebrity of being a Quidditch star, and Harry reviled the fame. While friendly at first, things quickly devolved from there and Harry found himself resentful of her for about a year. Now, there's no animosity between them. It's difficult to remain frosty to each other with the amount of mutual friends and family.

Hermione and Ginny are still close friends, but he refrains from asking any personal details about his ex. Of course, this all changed after he saw her snog the daylights out of Katie Bell. Ginny still hasn't said anything to him about the incident, even when he tried to say to her he would love and support her no matter what she does. She had just nodded and assured him she felt the same way. Harry has never been great at those kinds of conversations.

"Thinking about her?"

"I guess, a little. Not in the way you're thinking, of course. Mostly, I'm thankful Ginny did what I didn't have the courage to do: start again. We didn't fit and it was - it was so much work to make it seem like we did. Does - does that make sense? Of course, it _all_ makes a bit more sense now, knowing she's probably interested in women. So many things make more sense, honestly. I just want her to be happy.. I think with me and Ginny we were both just trying to force something for the sake of easiness. Does _that_ make sense?"

Hermione takes a gulp of her drink before humming a little in contemplation, "Yes, of course it does, but we've discussed Ron and Ginny so many times. In the end, we have to accept the reality." Harry makes a noise of agreement, but then she continues, "I'm undateable and you're unattainable."

He splutters a bit, drawing a laugh from his friend, and reaches for a napkin on the table to dab at his chin, "I'm what now? You're what now? Hermione, give over,"

"I didn't mean it in some great pitiful way. You're unattainable to all the women who want to date you because you're closed off. I'm undateable because I'm - I'm too controlling, demanding, tactless, condescending: _difficult._ "

Harry's spirits fall at these words, and something in his chest clenches in an unpleasant way. He softens and moves closer to Hermione, their shoulders and legs touching, which forces her to look at him. He meets her gaze and speaks in earnest, "Hermione, you're not 'too' anything. You're an amazing person, anyone would be lucky to have you. You've got to stop saying these crazy things about yourself or - or I'll have to side with Ron next time he calls you a nutter."

She holds his gaze for another moment before stretching forward to fill their glasses. Hermione fans herself after, and he notices for the first time this evening that her cheeks are rosy red, flush against the paleness of her skin. "It's warm, isn't it?" Instead of extinguishing the fire lit at the front of the room, Hermione shrugs off her dressing gown. "Anyway, thanks for saying that, Harry. No matter, I'm happy for Ron. I'm focused on my career, I don't even want to get married right now."

"Yep, work keeps me pretty busy.. that' s why I'm single, not 'cause I'm 'unattainable'" Harry teases, grinning widely. He doesn't point out that Ginny being possibly bisexual or gay is probably a large reason why they never worked.

Hermione looks like she is just about resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "Oh, I'll be paying for that one for a while, won't I?"

"Hermione, if you think I'm out of everyone's league, I'll have to trust you. You're always right, after all," He absently flicks his eyes over the scattered freckles on her shoulders. Harry feels the stirring in him as his eyes trace her collar bone, the slenderness of her neck, and - no. He forces his eyes back onto his glass.

She smirks at this, "I'm what now? What was that last bit, Harry? Yes, I'll definitely remember that forever."

Harry groans playfully, but doesn't offer any further response as he can't remember what he said. His mind is desperately focused on ignoring all aspects of Hermione.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while then, sipping on their wine and occasionally speaking about unimportant, trivial things in their lives. It's still a privilege for them to do that, even after nearly a decade. The novelty of being able to speak freely about anything without feeling guilty for shirking responsibilities fascinates Harry. Will he ever forget that feeling? The all-encompassing urgency of research and planning?

He relishes the opportunity to simply sit and chat with his friends. Harry may not have jumped right into it after the war, but since finding his feet solidly about five years ago, he goes out of his way to touch base with friends. He still has a close-knit circle and tries to meet at least one of them once a week.

Harry's eyes dart to Hermione for a moment before going back to the fire. He sees Hermione much more, given they have lunch together at the Ministry regularly and live together. He's not quite sure when things truly shifted between them, Harry is sure it was long before their relationships with the Weasley's ended, but it becomes difficult to pinpoint the exact time she became the most important person in his life. The fact that this has been so profoundly disrupted and disjointed since they - since they - well, _kissed -_ is something that bothers him deeply.

It's daunting to admit to himself - how important she is - and he doesn't think he will say it out loud, but that doesn't negate the genuinity of the sentiment. He doesn't allow himself to think much longer (never does) as it wanders into territory that they've avoided since they were teenagers.

Harry ignores the urge to put his hand on her knee. The compulsion to trace her face, tuck a curl behind her ear and press a soft kiss to her lips. These must be fleeting impulses that would happen around any attractive woman. Harry isn't about to fall victim to loneliness and pounce in his friend in a moment of madness (again).

He's struck from his reverie when Hermione speaks, "Harry, do you - do you ever think about.." she trails off, uncertainty clear in her tone.

There's something in her words, in her hesitation, that causes his stomach to flip. He isn't familiar with this territory and everything in him is fighting the need to change the subject or run. Swallowing the new lump in his throat, he feigns nonchalance, "Do I ever think about what?"

Hermione studies him which he quirks an eyebrow in response to, underlining his previous words. Harry hopes she can't hear the rapid thumping of his heart that is overbearing to his ears.

"Do you ever think about the forest of dean? When it was just the two of us?"

He averts his eyes, unable to look at her while he lies, "Not really. We spent most of it moping about Ron being a git."

She nods, the moment lost and all the unease evaporates with it. "True."

Quiet settles again, and something on the radio strikes Harry.

"" _Give me your wand, baby, lets go to battle, if you know what I me-e-e-an,"_

They swing around to look at each other, wide-eyed, gobsmacked, before dissolving into convulsions of laughter, "Oh my god - is - is that -?"

Harry struggles to nod through his laughter, "Another hit by Parkinson,"

"'If you know what I mean', who puts that there in a song?"

"She's making sure there's consent, Hermione, _obviously_ ,"

They go on like that for a few more turns, and it's one of Harry's favourite things to banter with her like this. Ron and Hermione have very different senses of humour, Ron's being far more overt, but when you catch Hermione in a good mood or willing to let go, her wit is unrivalled. Maybe he's biased.

They settle down again. Truly feeling the effects of alcohol now, both he and Hermione are dozing a little on the couch. The warmth from the fire hugging him; the wine sedating him; Hermione's softness beside him; mixes for the perfect combination. He has missed this, missed being close to her physically more than he realised. It brings peace, a sense of calm, in his otherwise tumultuous thoughts. He feels like the sea on a choppy day, only to be brought to the still tranquillity of a lake when she's next to him. Harry wishes he didn't feel like this, hopes he can forget it, change it, find it in someone else. He has to reject this kind of - of reliance.

Hermione sits upright, reaching for another sip of wine. He watches her with interest because he knows that look. She's thinking deeply about something, has the kind of expression where she turns to him after and offers a brilliant solution to a difficult problem. For some reason, it unearths some misplaced anxiety in him.

After what feels like twenty minutes, she inhales deeply and closes her eyes. The anxiety is steadily increasing and he ponders whether he should excuse himself and go to bed.

"The thing is, Harry, I _do_ think about the Forest of Dean." Oh god, Harry thinks. He freezes, his breath becomes shallow. She's looking at him now, nervous but soft, "I think about it because it was one of _those_ times. You know the times. It's - it's the line. The tension. It's the first time I felt our - the first time that we really.. That we were so close to _something._ Since then, I feel like we keep running into that feeling and avoiding it. The wedding - Neville and Hannah's really - was just.. It was what should have happened years ago.."

Hermione turns slightly, her knee coming onto the couch, and he notices there are unshed tears glistening in her eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is a low whisper, brimming with emotion, "I don't _want_ to avoid it anymore, Harry. There's a reason we always come back to each other."

His mouth is dry, "What are you saying?"

She falters, "I - I suppose I'm saying I.. for lack of better word.. I _like_ you. I want to be _more._ More than.. Than friends." Hermione isn't meeting his eyes anymore, instead choosing to play with the strings on her pajama trousers. She takes another steadying breath, "If you don't feel the same, that's ok, too. I can be just friends. I don't want to lose you, couldn't - couldn't do.." Hermione doesn't finish her sentence, but she doesn't need to either. He knows what she means, he can't imagine a world where they're not next to each other either.

But _this?_ It's too much. He can't. Harry can't go through it again, he can't lose her, can't fight with her and disappoint her. They're not like that - Hermione is his safe place, his sanctuary, _home._ He can't ruin that with a relationship. He doesn't allow himself to think about his feelings for her or her position in his life and it's for _this exact reason._

They're best friends. He used to think like siblings but that belief was quickly doused once they lived together.

He can't - this is Hermione. He'll only fuck it up, drive her away.

He manages to croak out a raspy, meagre, "I can't."

Harry glances at her for a second, enough to see her jaw clench and her nod slowly. She purses her lips, and he is very familiar with this look. Hermione is about to cry. He watches, feeling useless and helpless and _stupid,_ hating himself and wishing he could take away any hurt she feels.

This is better though - this is preferable in the long run. She'll meet some successful, smart, good-looking bloke and have 1.2 kids in a townhouse with a picket fence. They'll meet for lunch and marvel how at one stage they pined for each other.

Because that's true, too, isn't it? Part of him, someplace he buries and neglects, pines for her. Some dark piece of him wants that successful bloke to be _him._

Hermione draws him back, clearing her throat, "Ok. Well. That's - that's ok. Of course. I'm.. I'm going to go to bed, but I'll be back to normal by the morning. Let's pretend this never happened." She wipes at her eyes, inhales and smiles widely - so fake that it's disconcerting, "Friends?"

Something is shattering, shifting irrevocably, and his brain scrambles for a way to keep it together, to press pause and gather himself. If he continues this, that possibility, the _maybe_ factor of ever ending up with her is gone. There's a whine of panic in his mind.

There's suddenly a gust of green light from the fireplace that engulfs the room; both Harry and Hermione jump to their feet in the same second, wands withdrawn and steady. Harry is an auror, his reflexes have to be sharp, but he's surprised to see Hermione react so quickly.

Ginny is sitting on the floor in front of them on her knees, dragging herself with a heaviness to her feet. She meets Harry's eyes and he sags, knowing by the haunted, devastated look on her face that something terrible has happened. Ginny puts her hand to her forehead for a minute, taking slow, shuddering breaths.

"Ginny, what's going on?" Hermione's voice is demanding, fierce, but Harry can still detect the fear. He resists the impulse to place a hand on her arm, or worse, her hand.

"It's - it's Hannah," She says, and his stomach twists painfully, "She… there was a complication. With the birth." Ginny wraps her arms around herself, sniffing but there are no tears falling, "She - she's dead. Giving _birth,_ of all the things. Of all - of all the fucking times to die." Her anger overtakes any grief, and he revels in it, eager to feel anything but the intense desolation of grief, "She fought in a bloody war and dies having a baby. What the fuck?"

They're all silent. The words are spinning around him, swimming and whirling, and he thinks he's going to be sick. Neville. Hannah. Christ almighty. Harry staggers back to the couch, falling onto it without any grace. Tears are streaming down Hermione's face, but her voice is steady, "I suppose we expect to be given some sort of peace card for surviving war, but there are lots of other things that can kill us. We don't have a free - a free pass." She groans, bringing her fists up to her eyes and pressing, "Oh god. This can't be real."

Ginny's eyes are red-rimmed but dry, "I - I can't tell Ron, I don't have it in me, he just got engaged - he.."

"Here we are celebrating Ron getting engaged, while Neville is in a room watching his wife die." Hermione's words are blunt, too tough, and Ginny flinches.

The gulp she takes is audible in the stillness of the room, "The baby is fine. Healthy. A girl, unnamed.. Neville is not - not quite available for that decision.." she trails off, her words falling around them, and that news feels like a plaster trying to mend a broken arm.

Hermione's shoulders begin to shake, "It's so unfair,"

Their earlier conversation shelved, Harry puts an arm around her and draws her to his chest. Ginny sits on the couch on her other side and leans her head on Hermione's shoulder. The three of them sit like that for what seems like hours, crying and speaking, until they drift into fitful bursts of sleep.

Harry's devastation for his friend is primary. When he thinks about the parallel of their lives, too, he wonders how angry would he be? How inconsolable? He has never before so desperately not wanted to be Neville. His parents taken from him in a cruel, vicious manner. His school life crowded with incidents of bullying. He rose from that, built himself and grew from it - and for what? Neville was starting a _family,_ opting for love above all else and trying to embrace what he never had. What his grandmother tried so hard in later years to create.

Now? He's left with pieces to put back together again. A child without a mother, a family missing an integral part. Neville met the love of his life and lost her. Just like that, snatched by some unseen force.

The injustice of it, the sheer unfairness, makes it hard to breathe. Harry doesn't sleep well for several nights after, waking gasping to the nothingness in his room, wondering why he keeps seeing the department of mysteries fight play out in front of his eyes, Neville by his side, until he cries himself back into exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, I know. The lightness that I started this story with has really trickled out, hasn't it? I truly hated killing Hannah off. It hurt to do haha.
> 
> I'm sorry for the abundance of angst. There are two chapters after this, and I'll be honest, the next one is a bit depressing but after that we'll have some goodness!
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments, follows, kudos. The comments have been so motivational in my editing and writing end of funeral chapter which was hard to do. I hope you enjoyed this. I did originally plan for this to be five chapters but I wanted to have more HHr scenes like this chapter.


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